Cabaret with Chardonnay
by FreelySheRoams
Summary: Penelope is a performer, and Derek loves watching. What will he do, when she becomes the leading lady in her next play? Warning: Sexual Situations.
1. I

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. This is just a fun, little story!**

 **Story Warnings: Sexual Situations and Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter: I

 _Suspect proceeded to disobey orders. He then drew his weapon…_

Stifling a yawn, blinking the bleary exhaustion from his eyes, as he glared at the unfinished case report. Feeling the aggravated kink in his shoulders, he slowly rolled his neck back and forth; hating the pinched nerve of knotted tension.

Giving up on finding any relief, he glanced at the clock only to bit back a groan – it was nearly ten at night! The team had left hours ago and he was still trying to play catch up. Once again cursing his poor excuse of typing, though his lips quirked when Garcia's knowing smirk – those full, pouty lips tainted a dazzling ruby red; bright hazel eyes sparkling with coy mischief, flashed in his mind as she teased him…

 _Oh, Chocolate Adonis! Though your physique is like that of a Greek God, your computer skills are that of a mere mortal. I sure do hope you have better skills in bed!_

She had leaned in close revealing a hint of that lovely fragrance, an enticing, earthy blend of rain kissed leaves and sweet orchids, as she purred into his ear. Her twinkling voice, which held a tempting lilt of playful seduction, had his already heavy dick twitching with awareness.

Gritting his teeth, as the vexing memory washed over him – reaching for his water, quickly swigging half of it down as he hastily tried to calm his nerves.

 _She's your best friend, Morgan!_

 _And she has a boyfriend…_

The chastising thoughts did little to ease the flurry of emotions that roared to life anytime his Baby Girl was involved. That flickering flame, which had been lit the moment he had first laid eyes on her, had yet to be diminished. If anything it had grown stronger, had become a resilient monster that gnawed at every fiber of his being – lingering, patiently waiting to reveal itself. Though every time he got the courage to act upon his feelings, something always came up.

 _Like Kevin Lynch_!

What that mismatched, weasel looking dork had on him, he had no idea!

 _He has Penelope…_

His mind cruelly taunted.

Rubbing the back of his head, he scooted closer to the desk, only to bang his knee on the sharp edge of the corner. Shouting a few expletives; his door was closed after all, he dragged the keyboard towards him and started punching in the rest of the report. Needing a mundane distraction to block the fiery redheaded Goddess out of his mind.

Fuck, he just had to think of her hair.

Those full, flouncy curls, soft like spun silk; always adorned with colorful flowers and sparkling gems, were mesmerizing. Twirling what was now, bright auburn locks, had become his favorite hobby over the years. Loving to thread them through his fingers while they cuddled up and watched a movie, or while they were sitting close together at a meeting – giving them teasing little tugs that had her glaring cutely over her quirky glasses.

Briefly wondering if he was a masochist at heart, as his mind betrayed him and those images, ones he conjured up late at night before he went to bed, flooded his senses. Naughty fantasies that had him encased in the slick, heated warmth of her body, as she undulated her hips above him, leaning her head back – those long curls, dancing across his upper thighs.

Shuddering with sensations, mouth embarrassingly salivating, he had to take a few deep, calming breaths. Realizing only twenty minutes had slinked by, he shut off his computer and started to gather his things. Grudgingly giving up on getting any more work done.

In fact, he hadn't been able to get much done these last few months. Not since Garcia had worn that cute blonde wig, and sexy black dress – pulling off the buxom, sexy secretary look, only she could do so effortlessly. It was that same day, when he had discovered her dirty little secret.

That Penelope Garcia was an actress, and even had her own starring role in a play.

To say he wasn't a tad bit miffed, would be a flat out lie. Not only had she kept this from him, but she had easily done so, which made him question his abilities as a profiler.

Remembering their conversation after that case; feeling her hands scratch the soft cotton of his shirt, lowering her voice, eyes sparking with fire, as she once again captured his undivided attention and drew him under that dangerous spell he was addicted to.

The distinct click-clacking of heels, zipping down the hallway, had him raising his brows in surprise. He thought she had left earlier with the rest of the team.

 _What was she still doing here?_

Smiling, suddenly giddy with excitement, he dropped his stuff and swiftly made his way down the short distance to her lair. Giving a quick little knock, as he swung the door open. "Hey, Baby Girl-…" he started, only to be met with an empty room.

Stepping further inside, spotting her panda purse and fuchsia coat on the swivel chair, noticing all but one computer was off. He decided to perch himself on the cluttered desk and wait her out. Picking up a light-up saber pen, clicking it on, going through all the colors and flashing combinations, only to get bored and fiddle with her other knick knacks.

Looking at his watch, he was about to text her when his eyes caught something flashy sticking out of her purse. The small postcards looked familiar, and he grinned, realizing immediately what it was. Having gotten the same kind of advertisement for her last play, though admittedly the team had to beg her to let them go see her performance.

Oh, but this one was new. Glancing at the door, then at the card – biting his cheek, he quickly grabbed the card; eyes greedily scanning it.

It had a white background, and the only image was the back of a woman's legs, teased by a short leather skirt and strappy crimson stilettos. And he shucked in a breath – he knew those legs; had them etched into the darkest corners of his mind.

He was going to flip it over, wanting more details, when her heels echoed down the hallway. Quickly folding the card and shoving it into his pocket, he had but a second to catch his breath, cross his arms, and look up at the door.

Waltzing in, wearing a dove grey pencil skirt with little purple flowers printed on it and a matching ruffled blouse that framed those voluptuous breasts of hers beautifully. Grinding his teeth, when he noticed the lollipop in her mouth – the round curve of her cheek, causing him to clench his jaw as that familiar thrumming arousal snaked down his body and coiled in his gut.

Shaking his thoughts, he stood up. "There you are Sweetness!"

She shrieked, nearly dropping the box of gadgets and spitting out her sugary treat. "Jesus, Hot Stuff!" she cried, giving him a pointed look. "Ya gave this tech kitten a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry, mama," helping her steady the heavy box, as she bent over to toss the candy into the trash.

And he stared, enjoying the view of her flared hips and round, perky ass; discreetly looking away before she stood back up.

"I just unwrapped that too," she chastised, though her eyes had a teasing glint of amusement.

"I'll buy you some dinner," bringing her closer, tucking her underneath his chin – trying not to think about how perfectly she molded to him, or that she eagerly hugged him back and rested her head on his shoulder. "Our little diner is still open, and they have that deal tonight, on those strawberry waffle sticks you love so much."

Ignoring the heavy press of her breasts against his solid chest, he smiled when she moaned and nodded her head. "Oh, that sounds delicious! A perfect offering for this Oracle."

Slowly pulling away from him, she started to putter around the office, doing last minute things.

"What're you still doing here anyways?" eyes trailing down those long legs, admiring the black pumps, with the cute buckle around her ankle.

"Had to do a last minute search for Cooper's team," she sighed, shoulders slumping just the slightest, and he couldn't help but notice how tired she looked; beautiful, but sleepy.

Swallowing his tongue, when the top swells of her tits jiggled as she yanked on her coat; cursing his inability to focus, he stared at the wall behind her.

 _Stop it, Morgan! Get it together. She's not interested in you like that._

"Ready!" she chirped, rubbing her hands together.

"Always," he smiled, following her back towards his office so he could get his own things and lock up.

"So…" he began. "How have you been? Anything… _new_ , or _exciting_ coming up?"

Leaning against the doorway as she waited for him, giving him a weird look. "Umm, no. Not really."

Though he was paying attention, had watched as she nibbled on her lip, eyes darting everywhere but his face, and he knew…she was lying. And then he smiled. He did love a challenge after all.

"Why…why do ask?" plastering a wide grin on her face, cheeks tainted with an adorable rosy blush.

"Just wondering," shrugging his shoulders, as he walked back towards her and switched off the lights.

"Oh," moving over so he could lock the door, they slowly made their way to the elevators. "What about you? Any hot dates?" she laughed, though it seemed forced.

And he frowned, hating that she always assumed he was looking for his next flavor of the week – though he knew she was teasing and didn't believe him to be the player his reputation had created for him. He did however, want her to know, that the only woman he wanted in his bed, was her. Had always been her. Though they seemed to be on different pages, as he was reminded once again, as to why he couldn't have her as she started to nervously ramble when he took too long to respond.

"Kevin took me to this little café brunch a few weeks ago," her voice sounded strained, telling him she wasn't revealing the whole truth. "I had this amazing tomato basil sandwich."

"You and _Lynch_ on the rocks," hoping his voice didn't sound as eager as he felt.

She pressed the button on the elevator and narrowed her gaze. "I hate profilers," she pouted, adjusting the strap of her purse as she teetered next to him.

He chuckled, giving her a look, letting her know he was waiting.

Rolling her eyes and looking away. "We've been arguing a lot lately. And he's been acting all weird. I think he's planning something," she shuddered, took a breath and continued. "I think, he's thinking about the long term…" she trailed off, staring at the doors as they swished opened.

Biting his lip, trying to tamp down that flare of jealously, though the fact she didn't seem enthusiastic by that idea, had him trying to hide a grin. "You…uh, you thinking about breaking up?"

She sighed, buttoning up her coat as they headed towards their vehicles. "I've been thinking about it. But he's so sweet, and we've been dating for so long now, and…" she waved her hand frantically around in front of her. "I just, don't do well with change."

He smiled. He already knew that.

Feeling that fluttering excitement; sensing an opportunity that had been so evasive these last few years, sneak back into his grasp. Knowing he had to be careful, and play his cards right. He couldn't fuck it up again.

They made it to her orange beast of a vehicle and she fumbled around in her purse, trying to find her keys, and he raised a brow – having told her the safety precautions of being by herself this late; the dangers of taking too long to get into her car.

"Ah, hah!" she smiled, pulling the sparkling lanyard out with a handful of trinkets, only to curse as those postcards scattered across the floor. "Oh, shit!" she cried, quickly bending over and gathering them up.

She shoved them into her purse, blowing bangs out of her face – cheeks now flushed scarlet, as she stood there looking guilty.

"What are _those_?" he purred, lips pursed with satisfaction.

"Nothing," walking around her car, struggling to unlock the doors.

Clucking his tongue, dropping the box of gadgets onto the trunk, he stared at her. "Are you in a play?"

She shook her head, curls bouncing around her shoulders, as she flung her door open and started dumping things inside.

"So I'll meet you at LouAnn's" she giggled, eyes slanted; telling him to drop the questioning.

He nodded his head, handed her the box – giving her a quick peck on the forehead, before heading towards his own SUV. "See you in fifteen!"

Sitting in the front seat, he watched as she drove off, and then finally pulled the advertisement back out from his pocket. Fingers unconsciously tracing the image of her legs, before catching himself and then quickly turning it over.

Discovering that the play opened up next weekend, and was recommended for an adult audience.

Oh, Garcia, you little minx!

Shaking his head, he started up his car; praying that they didn't get called out on a case, because Derek Morgan, was not going to be missing his Goddess in action.

To be continued…


	2. II

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support!  
**

 **Story Warnings: Sexual Situations and Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter II:

That scrumptious moan; a deep throaty purr, had his already heavy dick throbbing with that aching need to be buried deep within her heat. Of course, the fact that she was only eating a fucking waffle stick – licking the drizzled strawberry syrup off her index finger; full pouty lips pursed with pleasure, eyes clamped shut as she savored the sugary treat, was embarrassingly all it took, to knock the wind right out of him.

 _Breathe, Morgan…breathe!_

"Oh, Hot Stuff," she hummed; peeking her cute little tongue out to catch the spot of whip cream on the bow of her upper lip. "Taste this!" opening those bright hazel eyes, as she dipped the stick once more and held it out for him.

The movement sent that alluring earthy scent fluttering around him, causing him to shift in the leather seat next to her. They were sitting, side by side, at their favorite booth in the back of Lou Ann's. She was tucked safely into the inner seat as he kept his guarded gaze on the two exits and other patrons. A cautionary habit his job as a profiler, had ingrained into every fiber of his being.

Smiling, he took a big bite; enjoying the soft pad of her thumb tracing the corner of his mouth as she caught the syrup from falling, only to grit his teeth as she sucked her finger into those raspberry lips – giving him a playful wink.

" _Tasty_ ," the graveled weight of his voice, made her look back up at him, as she sipped her hot chocolate and peered over her quirky frames.

"You want some more?" manicured brow arched, as she dipped another whopping amount onto a new stick.

Shaking his head, he speared a forkful of scrambled eggs. "Thanks, baby. But you finish it."

A comfortable silence fell over them, and Derek took the time to bask in the feeling of 'rightness' that only happened when Penelope was with him. Their bodies were practically glued together; they were sitting so close, and he couldn't help the bubble of awareness that caught every rousing detail. From her stocking covered thigh, which was pressed against the harsh denim of his own, to the soft brush of her breast that teased his arm as she reached over to steal bites off of his plate – having learned long ago to order extra eggs and potatoes.

Garcia gave him, what he sensed was a knowing smirk, and he suddenly felt his cheeks flush with heat – fearing she could gaze into his mind and unravel his naughty thoughts.

Clearing his throat, tearing off a huge piece of bacon, only to nearly choke – making her giggle and pat his back, soothing that smothering denial of sexual tension by doing what she did best; showering him with concern.

"So um…how are the reports coming along?" giving him a sympathetic look, before slowly peeling her eyes away – busying her hands by fiddling with a napkin.

"Good," he shrugged, sipping his orange juice – wishing it was the caffeine his body craved, but Garcia wouldn't allow it, not when she had Reid's helpful knowledge as to why he shouldn't be drinking his favorite beverage if he was having trouble sleeping. "Got a little more done today."

 _A paragraph._

 _A measly paragraph, was all he had gotten done today._

Though he couldn't really complain, since he was now sitting here with her.

That familiar vibrating chime; a particularly boring ring tone for Penelope's cellular device, that indicated it was Lynch, went off inside her purse. Swallowing his tongue – knife scraping against the heavy glass plate, trying not to stare at her nibbling on that plump bottom lip as she quickly glanced at the bedazzled phone, and he could have whooped with joy, when she left it unanswered and tossed it back inside her purse.

"Is everything okay?" giving her a little shoulder bump when she didn't immediately respond.

"Uh huh," waving her fork around, trying to shrug it off.

That nagging guilt slithered down his spine, for not being able to help with whatever was bothering her. Derek was a profiler after all; had stood on the sidelines – prowling, waiting – watching Garcia's interaction with Lynch. It wasn't that her boyfriend was a horrible person, he was decent, though rather dorky, mismatched, wimpish, and completely unromantic – hadn't remembered a single anniversary date or Valentines since they started dating. Hell the last gift he bought her was a coupon to her favorite coffee shop and a single, pathetic looking rose.

No Kevin Lynch, was actually less than decent, in Morgan's book. He wasn't worthy of the affection Penelope bestowed upon him. His God Given Solace deserved better than that weasel.

Deserved somebody like him.

 _Woah!_

 _Easy Morgan, you're doing it again!_

Grinding his teeth, doing his best to force those rampant emotions back down to the gnawing pit where he had kept them all of these years. Penelope hadn't chosen Derek, she had however, said yes to Lynch and had been dating him ever since. It was a cold, jagged pill to swallow, but it was the truth. Though, even after all this time, he still didn't like it. In fact, he was hoping to change it.

He just needed the right opportunity.

Taking a few deep, calming breaths; clenching the tension in his jaw – deciding to swig down the rest of his orange juice, only for the sweet tang to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

"It's just…" she started, causing him to stiffen in his seat – fully aware that this was a pivotal moment, because even though Garcia wore her heart on her sleeve, she rarely opened up about her personal problems. She was fiercely independent, rather stubborn and a tad bit of a control freak; all things that he admired about her, had grown to love – so he sat there and listened.

"I feel like…well, I don't know…it's just…" she continued; rambling – taking a sip of her drink, only to dip another waffle stick and munch on it.

"Hey, Sweetness," twisting in his seat, giving her his full attention – knowing how much she appreciated the little things, and her look of surprise, which caused a cute blush to bloom across her cheeks, was all the evidence he needed to prove how inattentive Lynch had been with her. "What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours," tapping the tip of her nose, and hell, even that part of her body was perfect, with its adorable upturn and the way she stuck it in the air with defiance.

That impish thought, of how she would defy him; challenge him in the bedroom, like she so effortlessly did at work and all other aspects of their lives, had that restless domineering beast ignite with a vengeance, making him discreetly adjust his pants as his prick twitched achingly with salacious fervor.

Yes, Derek was aware that he had it bad for his best friend.

So rather than professing his declaration inside the small, homey diner, or better yet, bend that round perky ass of hers over the table and bury himself within that slick heat his body craved, he plastered a charming smile across his face and gave her the support she needed.

"It's nothing, really…" shaking her head, letting those curls bounce over her shoulders, as she tried to laugh off his attention. "I'm being silly. It's nothing to worry your deliciously sculpted self about."

He couldn't help the quirk of his lips, and his ego strutted around like a proud peacock – loving her admiration for his many dedicated hours to stay fit. Penelope would deny it, but she got her sparkly colorful nails on his biceps and toned tummy any chance she got.

That thought, had him sitting a little taller, leaning a little further back so his arm could stretch out on the booth behind her, and now he was grinning – teeth flashing with pride, as those hazel eyes followed his arm; staring at the flexed muscle, only to lick her lips and take a long swig of water.

It was a cruel thing to do, teasing her while she was struggling to express her problem, but he just had to know, had to make sure she was just as interested in him, as he was with her. Because for all of Penelope's glitzy and flirty bravado, she was logical and innately self-conscious – it was her way of protecting herself. However, she was also extremely curious and held enough raw sensuality in the palm of her hand, to burn all of Quantico to the ground.

Derek had been encapsulated by those swaying hips, luscious breasts and plump lips long ago – scorched by the beauty that was his Baby Girl. So he knew she desired it, because he had felt her heated gaze on his ass when he walked away; watched as she drooled over him dancing in the clubs – eyes locking across the dance floor as he tried to convey what he could do to her with those methodical rhythmic motions. He was sure Penelope wanted him. There were tingling electric sparks that flared up every day between them, which they dangerously played with – pushing the limits, seeing who would crack first and blush, only to regretfully laugh off the sizzling tension and tortuously repeat the cycle the next day. Had been doing it for years.

So yes, he would bet a years' worth of salary on the fact that she was interested in him.

She just had to admit it.

"Don't give me that," narrowed gaze; stern and demanding. "What did _he_ do?"

She gasped, seeming offended. "You're always blaming Kevin!"

His jaw ticked, and he frowned. Penelope was moody tonight and he had learned his lesson the hard way long ago, when he had jokingly teased if she was on her period. Never again, _never again_ , would that phrase be uttered from his mouth. He had paid dearly for that smart aleck remark and she had ignored him for three whole days, making him feel like an ass when she had finally broken down and cried once she had forgiven him.

Treading in the dangerous murky waters that was Garcia's and Lynch's relationship, he dug deep for some tattered patience and changed his tactics.

"Okay," reaching forward, taking her small palm into his much larger one; he gently rubbed soothing circles on the back of her hand, enjoying the soft skin, that he tried not to think about feeling equally as soft elsewhere on her body. Like the deep valley of cleavage or the feminine folds between her legs. Swallowing; taking a breath which only seemed to incite the fire nipping at his skin. "Well then, are you going to tell me what happened?"

She pursed her lips, only to huff in annoyance.

He smiled, waved the waitress over for refills and then settled himself back into the seats, and waited.

"Oh you!" she pouted.

"Pen," he cajoled, and then he laughed. A full hearty laugh. "No, my poor Baby," shaking his head, laughing harder when she crossed her arms; faltering his amusement just the slightest as he openly stared at the lush bountiful tits before him, now pressed further up for his pleasure – and when she rolled her eyes, he continued. "You're embarrassed about something?"

"W-What!" she sputtered; face now flushing red, eyes narrowed over her frames. "No!"

 _Bingo!_

"You, my Goddess of all things sexy and brilliant, are embarrassed?"

"Derek," she whined, and when tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, he stopped teasing and pulled her closer to him.

"Baby Girl," he cooed, kissing the side of her head, unable to stop himself from breathing in her alluring scent. "I'm not gonna judge ya."

"I know," she sniffled; dabbing her eyes with a napkin. "It's just…" waving a hand around. "I wanna feel sexy!" the way she stated it, with such wild determination, had him startle back with shocked confusion – Penelope was the sexiest woman he had ever met. It didn't make sense.

"Sweet Mama," he chuckled, only to earn a fierce look from her as she pulled away, causing him to arch a brow and tug her even closer. "You _want_ to be sexy? Baby, have you seen you?" he was smiling a Cheshire grin of pride. Oh he had seen her alright…she was more than sexy. The painful pressure in his pants was proof of that, but when she crumpled, letting out a loud, miserable wail – drawing attention from the few other lingering patrons, he immediately realized the mistake in his wording.

"I _know_ what I look like Derek!" she spat, blowing her nose into the now rumpled napkin. "That's the problem!"

Anger surged down his spine, and he wanted to smack himself for causing her distress – but, first he was going to pay a visit to Lynch and give him a swift kick in the ass for not reminding Penelope every day that she was beautiful.

"I'm gonna be forty in a few years," she rambled.

"You're not even thirty-five yet," he countered.

She glared.

"And I feel like we lost our…" waving her hands around with renewed vigor, seeking the words she desperately wanted to say. "Our…oomph, ya know!" at Derek's blank expression she continued. "I mean, I thought we had it…I think we did, no, yeah, we did. When we first started dating. He was adorable, and _nice_ …" she frowned, not liking that descriptor – probably thinking it sounded as pathetic as Derek thought it did. "But I don't know…recently it's like…I mean we just…"

He was scared she was gonna stop breathing, she was talking so fast; putting a hand on the small of her back, he firmly rubbed her up and down, like soothing a startled kitten.

"I think it's because I-I don't feel…sexy anymore," stealing his napkin to wipe at her cheeks. "Kevin and I lost our spark, and I think he wants to settle down, and and…Derek we haven't fucked in almost four months! No! Five! Five months!" she shrieked, then she froze. "I just said that out loud, didn't I?" when Derek gave her a sympathetic nod, she groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, my god!"

"Hey, hey! Baby, look at me," he growled, when she tried to twist away and hide. " _Garcia_ , look at me!"

That got her to stop moving, but the tears kept flowing – looking around, he caught the curious stares of the people sitting around them and felt that protective urge kick in. Scowling; daring them to say something – causing them to shift and look away. Getting the waitress' attention, he quickly paid for the check, then gathered Penelope in his arms and lead her out into the soothing breeze of the cool autumn night.

Unlocking the doors to his SUV, he carefully got her into the passenger seat, then ran around to the driver's side and got in. Starting the car, he quickly turned the heat on, and waited until her tears subsided and she stopped sniffling.

"Look at me," grabbing her wrist, giving her knuckles a sweet, gentle kiss. "Please."

Staring out the window, she took a deep, shuddering breath and finally looked at him – eyes red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears and mascara, and he smiled…she had never looked more gorgeous.

"Sorry, Hot Stuff," she mumbled, giving him a grateful smile – one that always seemed to melt the barrier around his heart. "I didn't mean for that to happen in there."

"Stop fussing," resting his elbow on the center console, entwining his fingers with hers as he held her hand against his cheek. "You wanna tell me, what's really going on?"

"I've just been thinking a lot lately," he chuckled, and she arched a brow – silencing him. "And well…I mean Kevin's great…but…there's no _fire_ there anymore."

He could have told her that, long before they ever started dating – though he highly doubted voicing his opinion at this moment, would be any help. So he nodded, and urged her to continue.

"I mean, it used to be there…I think," turning her gaze to watch people exit the diner, only for the gentle squeeze of her hand to bring her attention back towards him. "Well anyways, I was cleaning up my home computer, and then I was shifting through some files and then…" nibbling on her lip; free hand playing with her chunky necklace. "And I found some deleted searches for…wedding rings."

The silence that followed was deafening. It was like a knife had been plunged through his heart; seizing the air from his lungs, and sending a bone-chilling freeze coursing through his veins.

"Huh," he croaked out, tearing his eyes off of her – staring out into the nearly empty parking lot, searching in the distance for an outcome that didn't involve his life collapsing in on itself.

"But...I don't want to marry him," her voice was so quiet, and yet so honest, that it shattered the frozen chasm that had settled around him – forcing him to breathe and whirl his head back around.

" _What_?" needing to hear it again, to make sure he hadn't imagined it.

"I don't want to marry, Kevin," finding strength, raising her nose in the air with biting determination. "If I marry someone…" their gazes locked, that simmering blaze coiling around them, only for her to blink and shift away. "I want to feel sexy and…okay, I know that makes me sound like a horrible person, but I think if I got married, there should be that spark you know. That fire that lets you know there's chemistry between you two. And we just, haven't had…" waving her hand around, blushing once more. "Sex, in a long time, and well…I think we lost that spark!"

Derek tried not to smile; jaw ticking with tamped excitement, because he knew exactly who she had chemistry with.

He was sitting right next to her.

"So I did a… _thing_ ," hazel eyes sparkling with renewed mischief, but there was no denying that hint of embarrassment. "I'm doing a _thing_ …and I'm…finally starting to feel sexy again," she was grinning, flashing those pearly whites, only for it to falter, as an irritated frown masked her face. "But, Kevin found out about…the _thing_ , and he doesn't want me to do it."

Derek figured this _thing_ , she was referring to, was the play she was in – and the fact that oblivious Kevin had a problem with it, made seeing her in it, that much more titillating.

Swallowing his parched tongue, shaking off the images that flashed in his mind, as he desperately tried to focus.

"So let me get this straight," brows furrowed in concentration, as he deftly tried to follow his best friend's frantic ramblings. "Lynch can't get it up, and wants to keep you around by putting a ring on it. And you, believing that it's your fault, went out and did a… _thing_ …" dropping his voice, waggling his brows as her face went from a beautiful rosy blush to a full blown scarlet shade of miffed surprise. "Because you think you lost your sexy, and now that you have this _thing_ …that makes you feel great, he wants you to give it up. And you," tapping her nose once more. "My little stubborn control freak, don't want to give it up."

Her mouth was hanging open in an adorable 'O' shape; head cocked to the side, eyes wide with what could only be wonderment.

"And you shouldn't," squeezing her hand, peppering the knuckles with kisses. "Give it up," feeling suddenly bold, he peeked his tongue out – nipping, sucking on the soft skin between her middle and index finger; imitating what he wanted so desperately to do between her legs. Grinning victoriously, watching her nipples pebble beneath her thin blouse as a shudder rippled down her body. Lifting his gaze, he grunted in satisfaction when her bright hazel eyes glazed over.

"Derek," she breathed out, licking her lips as she tried to steady herself.

"When are you going to realize," his voice was scratchy, demanding, almost dark. "That he doesn't deserve you."

She gasped, floundering for words, but he wasn't going to let her speak.

"Stop lying to yourself, Baby Girl," dragging her finger near his mouth, swirling his tongue on the tip. "And admit the truth."

"W-What!" she mumbled, voice a throaty purr that could only be caused by arousal. "Truth?"

"Mmm Hmm," he teased. "You don't want to marry Lynch, because you lost that… _spark_. Be honest with yourself, Penelope," eyes narrowed as he kept her pinned to the seat with his words. "You two never had it to begin with. You don't want to marry him, because you don't love him."

Her huff of indignation didn't surprise him. He was being rather brazen, taking a risk – creating that opportunity for himself.

"I don't know who you think you are Derek Morgan!" she growled, yanking her hand away. "I do love him!"

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do!"

His amber eyes were glittering with such feral heat; a raw exposure, that she couldn't look away.

"I d-do," voice cracking, tears springing from her eyes.

"No, Baby," reaching for her hand once more. "You don't. He's not the one you love."

Dropping the gauntlet – gambling it all.

"Oh?" she sniffled, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her coat. "And _who_ is it that I love?"

She finally looked back up at him, and their eyes locked.

Derek gave her a second to catch her breath – waiting, hoping that recognition would wash over her, and when it finally did, he tugged her towards him.

To be continued…


	3. III

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support!  
**

 **Story Warnings: Sexual Situations and Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter III

 _Flowers?_

 _No…too flirty._

 _Sparkling gems?_

 _No…too flashy._

 _Bows?_

 _Ugh!_

Slamming her hair pieces onto the beautiful swanky vanity dresser; the beautiful blend of silver and polished cream stained wood, with the bright bulbs framed around the large mirror, made Penelope feel every inch like a glamorous Hollywood actress. She had salvaged the antique treasure, back when she had first moved to Virginia; having discovered it on one of her many trips around town, when she was trying to distract herself from her new life as a government worker.

What started off many years ago as a side project, had now become an odd, but beloved hobby of hers – collecting things and then fixing them up. Giving an old tarnished object new life, made her feel good. She could easily see where Derek found the appeal of restoring houses, with the kind of job they had; working horrible cases, it was cathartic to have a hands on approach to giving life back into something that was long forgotten.

It certainly helped ease her mind of the anxiety that sometimes bubbled over. So every morning she sat at the vanity; finding that soothing tranquility that helped start her morning on the right track, but today, she seemed to only be thwarted with agitation. Sitting there, under the warmth of the unforgiving lights, she couldn't help but to feel the caustic storm gnawing at her mind.

That memory, so shockingly vivid, sent a tendril of heat snaking down her spine. Her insides clenched with that quivering need – a sensitive intensity that pulsed like an erratic heartbeat and cruelly pooled slick heat between her legs. Breasts now heavy with taut, swollen peaks, aching to be touched. Gritting her teeth, trying to forget those tantalizing kisses and honest caresses that left her skin scorched and lips bruised from that magnetic, commanding force. He had easily stolen her breath and an intimate piece of her soul – branding her body with a blazing fire that had kept her tossing and turning all night.

Leaving her unable to sleep, unable to forget the unbridled, consuming fervor, that was Derek Morgan.

Taking a long sip of her second mug of coffee; having ditched the idea of sleeping long ago, only to find herself just as frustrated as she tried to kill the extra time she had this morning by getting ready. Though it was no small feat, as she spent the last hour overanalyzing every decision.

Giving up on styling her hair, she rummaged through her makeup drawers – digging, searching for a lipstick color that said ' _I have a boyfriend but I sorta, accidentally made out with my best friend and I think I enjoyed it, but I swear I'm not a tramp,"_ or maybe something more daring and to the point like ' _Orange, ya glad I didn't fuck him in the parking lot at our favorite diner'_. Swallowing her suddenly parched tongue as that scintillating image washed over her; churning her blood into molten fervidity. No she didn't have those colors. So she continued her search – blindly grabbing two lipsticks, only to come up with the options of either _Midnight Mulberry_ or _Tahiti Coral_.

Glaring at the offending colors; if she went too dark, Derek might think she was angry… _was she angry?_ And if she went too bright; her normal, casual route, he might think she didn't care, and… _did she want him to think she cared?_

Tossing them both back into the cluttered drawer; rubbing the knot of tension that had settled over her eyes, she took a deep, calming breath and decided to keep it simple. Good ole neutral. Dabbing the wand into the shimmering vanilla gloss, she delicately smeared it over her lips – puckering and pressing, letting out a noisy 'pop' when it was perfect; narrowed gaze looking it over, only to growl, grab a tissue and wipe that poor decision off her face.

That growing irritation made her face flush with heat, and she wanted to scream. This was not how an Oracle of all Knowing started her mornings. Gathering her flouncing curls into two pigtails – feeling slight relief as the cool air tickled her neck, making herself feel better by adding purple ribbons that she tied into bows.

"Perfect!" she smiled, only to catch sight of her unfinished face, and pout.

Maybe she should decide on an outfit first.

Grudgingly getting up; not quite ready to change out of her soft, adorable jammies, she yanked her closet door open and frowned.

 _What exactly was one supposed to wear the next day to work after…after what happened the night before?_

Turning around on her polka dotted socks, she stomped over to her dresser and shuffled through her frilly, vibrant assortment of sometimes foxy, often classy, but mostly cute and simple lingerie. Ignoring that derisive little voice of accusation when she picked up a rare naughty matching set – a stunning maroon of satiny lace; the perfect plunging demi cup that hiked her girls up nicely and the matching teensy thong that went with it.

It had been a spur of the moment purchase; had looked lovely on her inside the cramped changing room at the mall, and had since then found a home in the back of her dresser, until today. Hell, it still had the frickin' tag on it. Though Penelope was preparing herself; needing to feel extra beautiful today – hoping to gather the strength she had lost the moment Derek's lips had ascended on hers.

Time had come to an abrupt stop, even as the earth spun rapidly, only to tilt and self-implode. It had been earth shattering – dazzling her vision with stars as her body crumpled with riveting pleasure, that which only Derek could have given her. It had been an erratic frenzy; a dangerous concoction of potent sensual yearning and raw, carnal hunger.

It was everything she had dreamt kissing Derek would feel like – it was infinitely better than her darkest, wicked fantasies.

Though Penelope wasn't stupid; had enough common sense and intellect to know that she was doomed – completely and utterly hopeless, for there was no way she could spend the rest of her life without experiencing those hot, wet, sloppy, but demanding kisses, one more time. However, she was also innately stubborn, not to mention jittery from the strong caffeinated brew, almost painfully horny from the _Morgan Mayhem_ that had fueled her restless night, and add in the bright dawn of early morning with chirping birds that brought with it brazen clarity, and she was far from admitting anything silly like…feelings

For her best friend…

Who just happened to be an amazing kisser…

With his manly man muscles…and the thickest, longest…

 _Holy Microsoft! Garcie, get it together!_

Quickly tearing off her lavender zebra printed cotton; she took several deep breaths, enjoying the cool air against her overheated skin, before shimmying her way into her bra and panties. Bending over, adjusting her breasts into the padded cups, before standing back up and catching her image in the mirror. Trailing her hand over her soft, slightly rounded tummy to that starburst knotted scar that she had learned to love; reminding her every day how precious life truly was, and though she had a few unwanted dips and extra curves, she found herself feeling quite beautiful, and dare she say… _sexy_.

And it was the first time that morning that a genuine smile tugged at her lips. Grinning, turning sideways to face the mirror, admiring her toned butt – feeling grateful for having tagged along with JJ to her new Pilates classes. It had done wonders and she was gaining confidence in showing it off.

 _Why does it matter? It's not like he's gonna see you like this anyway!_

That nagging, taunting voice, immediately doused any sanguine thoughts – creeping reality back into her bones and dashing the idea that Morgan and Garcia could ever be an item. It was completely absurd, perhaps the most ridiculous thing she had ever conjured up, and yet…

Penelope knew deep, deep down, that she was irrevocably in love with him; had been for years.

It was like her darkest secrets, vaulted behind a frozen barrier, had been cracked open and displayed so vulnerably in the palm of Derek's hand, where he nurtured it with such gentle devotion – conquering her fears and revealing that warm light of hope which had given her a glimpse of their future. It was an exquisite gift, though an extremely costly one, because the slimmest of possibilities that they couldn't be together, that last night had been a cruel joke and their loving friendship was permanently damaged, broke her delicate heart – making her want the world to swallow her up, so she could curl into a ball and disappear.

Feeling those unshed tears dot her lashes, bringing with it that looming anxiety and shuddering breaths, she shuffled over to her closet and focused on her clothes, only for that dull vibrating chime to shatter her emotional turmoil.

 _Oh, Kevin!_

 _Her boyfriend._

 _How could she forget?_

Guilt flooded her like an abrasive twisting knife; eyes darting around the room as if she had been caught red handed with those cheating thoughts, she rushed over to her cellphone and fumbled with the bedazzled device.

 **Do you have a flash drive I can borrow?** His text read, and she frowned.

 _Not even a 'Hey, good morning'._

Sending back a simple reply, she tossed the phone onto her bed, took a breath and straightened her shoulders. This was going to be a long, long day.

* * *

Having gotten up two hours earlier to get ready for work, and still managing to be twenty minutes late for the round table meeting, was not one of her finer moments.

Teetering on those sparkling turquoise pumps; case file tucked underneath her arm, while she juggled her tablet, sticker covered notebook, two new fuzzy pens and a fresh mug of coffee in her hands, she finally entered the room to the concerned, but amused looks of her team. Though it was the sharp hiss of breath off to the side, that had her head whirling around to catch Derek's glittering obsidian gaze, that caused her spine to tingle with awareness.

Eyes widening behind her purple frames, before glaring in stunned exasperation. Perched against the desk, with a charming grin of casual deception; arms crossed in a way that made the intricate ink of his tattoo peek teasingly beneath that tight olive shirt. The one which she had given him as a birthday gift because she knew it brought out those dazzling golden flecks of his eyes. It was her favorite shirt on him, and he knew it, since he only wore it on special occasions.

 _Well, you know he loves your hair in pigtails._

That voice once again admonished, and when he caught sight of her flouncy curls held up by those cute, little bows, his expressive brows arched, teeth flashing with that knowing Cheshire smirk, as he gave her a barely perceptible nod of appreciation.

Unable to stop her own narrowed gaze from trailing over him, only to bite her lip when she spotted those low hung jeans – faded denim that framed his ass perfectly and if she was lucky, gave her a tempting peek of that generous package she had recently discovered.

Swallowing her now parched tongue, hating that blush that bloomed across her cheeks and made her hot inside the air conditioned room, she finally peeled her eyes off of him, dropped her things on the table and got to work.

"So sorry I'm late, my fine, furry crime fighters!" she chirped, clearing her throat as she plastered a wide smile across her now dark, scarlet lips.

Red, having felt like the worthiest color to take on the day.

"You're here now, Pretty Mama," Derek's voice was somehow darker, huskier, and it sent a pleasurable shiver rolling over her body.

Fumbling with the remote, accidentally pressing buttons that deleted the images off the giant screen – shooting him daggers, before twirling around to fix the problem only to bump her chair into Reid, which caused him to suddenly scoot back, drop his tablet and slam into Rossi; who had the misfortune of dropping his cup of coffee all over his lap.

"Son of a… _Cagna_!" he bellowed; jumping up, fanning his soaked trousers to get the hot liquid away from his skin.

"Oh, Fiddlesticks!" she cried, rushing over to the tissue box behind her, quickly ripping out handfuls, and she was just about to help dry him off, when Derek's booming voice stopped her.

"Penelope!" he growled, only to tug her away from the older man, and it was at that exact moment when she realized her magenta tipped hand, had been inches away from Rossi's covered groin.

"Oh…" she gasped; feeling her body flush with embarrassed heat. "Umm…I…uh…" she mumbled, desperately trying to ignore Emily and JJ's poorly muffled giggles – taking a deep breath; still holding the crumbled bouquet of tissues, she somehow managed a timid "Sorry."

Grateful when Rossi smiled at her; dark whiskey eyes, sparkling with amusement. He gently took her offering and politely excused himself, and if Penelope wasn't still blithering with shock, she would have laughed at the sight of him waddling his way to the bathroom.

Hotch cleared his throat and the stern gaze of accusation he was giving the two of them – letting them know that he knew that whatever had flustered Penelope, involved the manly hunk standing behind her who still had one hand holding her wrist, while the other one was discreetly, but possessively, resting above the curve of her ass. Then like Derek so often did, he tucked her closely to him and kissed the side of her head – lingering just a little bit longer than usual, and sneakily taking a gentle whiff of her hair.

Penelope felt her breath hitch; frozen with that prickle of wariness – eyes darting frantically around the room, feeling as if she would self-combust because their tender interaction would spill the beans about the incident in the parking lot. However, as she stood their trying to remember how to breathe and to not focus on his fingers dancing along the curve of her hip, she realized that nobody seemed to notice or even care.

Nobody was shocked. Not one single team member, raised a brow or smirked with knowing amusement. It was like a cold bucket of blunt veracity had been spilt over her hazy mind; forcing her habitual ignorance to finally understand that the only reason why nobody was questioning them was because they had always been this way. Plain and simple. Hell, the whole damn Bureau thought they were secretly dating; would always group them together, because wherever one went, the other would follow.

They were like two very frisky peas in an overfilling pod of sexual tension, because the second they entered a room together it became stifling for anyone standing in their vicinity.

Derek must have felt her stiffen, because his grasp tightened and he pressed himself even closer. Her back was now indecently plastered to his front, and she had to nibble on her bottom lip when he tilted his head into the crook of her neck, lowering that smooth voice, so only she could hear. "You okay?"

She slowly nodded her head, even though her world and everything she knew about it, seemed to have crumbled underneath her sparkling heels – leaving her impossibly lost and terribly confused.

Finding renewed strength, or perhaps remnants of self-preservation, she finally stepped away from him, grabbed a chair and plopped herself down. Breathing a sigh of relief, only to scowl when Derek dragged his own chair between her and Reid and scooted himself right next to her, like an annoying, but lovable, puppy begging at her feet.

"Garcia," Hotch mumbled; indicating the screen behind her.

"Right, yes, the case!" she waved a hand around, bracelets jangling loudly in the quiet space. "This one is local," ignoring the not so subtle whoop of joy from Morgan, who tried to play it off by coughing into his fist. "Our first victim is…" prattling off the gruesome details; doing her best to quench the sensitive ache of her heart as she stared at the once smiling face of the man on her tablet.

Their victim had just gotten promoted and had recently become a new father to a baby boy. That festering pain of this job coiled down her spine, and she rapidly tried to blink away the tears, only to feel a familiar hand cover her own and give it that gentle reassuring squeeze. Looking up, giving Derek a grateful smile, momentarily forgetting that they had crossed a blurred line of infidelity.

The world went silent, and she easily, almost embarrassingly, got lost in the irresistible, enigmatic temptation that was Derek Morgan.

"Hey, Baby Girl," he whispered.

"Hmm?" she hummed, staring at those golden flecks that radiated undeniable adoration.

"You gonna go to your lair?" that dashing smirk, made that bundle of nerves between her legs pulse with yearning.

"Huh?" blinking; thumb rubbing small patterns on his wrist.

"They're gone."

"Who?"

"The team."

Glancing around, shocked to find that the conference room was empty, and that she had somehow managed to miss the rest of the team's collective sharing of information. Digging her heels into the carpet, she pushed her chair back a good distance and peered over her frames; chin jutted out in annoyance, only to spot Derek waggling his brows with suggestive mischief.

"What's got you all distracted?" lifting his leg; polished black boot teasingly tapping her ankle. "Were you thinking about…last night?"

Penelope wanted to wipe that smug, gorgeous smirk off his face. She had spent all morning preparing herself, deliberately trying to build up a defense to handle the consequences of their actions, and here he was practically prancing around the BAU happily waving a banner of their indiscretions. Heck, he probably got an airplane to write something cheesy in the sky like… **I, Derek Morgan, did** _ **things**_ **with Penelope Garcia**.

 _Was she thinking about last night?_

 _What an asshole!_

 _As if she could forget!_

To be continued…


	4. IV

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! Also, I am currently working on finishing up this story, as there are only a few more chapters left. So stay tuned, they shall be up shortly! :)  
**

 **Story Warnings: Sexual Situations and Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter IV

"Were you, thinking about…last night?" he had asked; leaning back in the swivel chair, as his polished boot slowly skimmed its way up her stocking covered leg.

She gasped, sputtered, and then frowned, as her eyes narrowed over those bedazzled frames.

Enjoying the rosy heat, that bloomed across her face, he raised his foot just a little higher, until it hit the frilly hem of her skirt and her hand shot out to clutch his boot.

"Hot Stuff," she hissed; voice clipped with warning.

"Hmm," he smirked. "Be honest with me. Have you been thinking about last night?" his voice held a weight to it; graveled hope that needed confirmation – to know that she also couldn't get that hot, sensual kiss out of her head.

Watching, as she nibbled on that plump bottom lip, fingers fiddling with her plastic, chunky bracelets, while her eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"Strawberries," he blurted out.

She looked up, brows furrowed with confusion.

"Spicy, like cinnamon," he added, scooting his chair closer to her. "But also fruity. Something sweet, like peaches."

"What are you-…Oh!" she snorted, rolling her eyes. "Look, Baby Boy…" she smiled. "I told ya, that you should've ordered those waffle sticks," shaking her head in amusement. "But you never listen to this Oracle-…"

Sitting up, he grabbed the handles of her chair and dragged her forward, until her knees were tucked securely between his opened ones – effectively shutting her up, since he didn't want to see relief flash across her face, because she _thought_ that he was referencing food.

"I'm not talking about breakfast," he bit out, ignoring her shocked gasp and stunned expression. "I'm talking about you."

Swallowing her tongue. "M-Me?" she wheezed, looking affronted.

"Mmhmm," he growled; loving the fine arch of her brow, at that possessive sound. "I know you, Garcia," he smiled, reaching for one of her hands – softly rubbing his thumb over that smooth skin, when he felt the slight tremble beneath her cold exterior. "I know that you came into work late, because you were in a frenzy this morning," grinning, when her mouth fell open and she looked away.

"I was not!" she huffed, sticking that cute, button nose in the air.

"Oh, yes you were," dropping his hand to cup her knee, giving it a firm squeeze. "You wanted to act like our kiss last night…" nearly rolling his eyes, when she squeaked and quickly glanced around the conference room, glaring at him when she realized no one was around, but before she could protest, he added "…didn't happen."

"Morgan," foolishly thinking that using his last name, was going to stop him from making a point.

"Oh, but it did," locking eyes with her, when she snapped those fiery hazels at him. "And I get that you're not ready to admit it. That you, Miss Hard Head…" raising a long, callused finger, to gently tap her forehead. "Can't stop thinking about what happened last night," taking a slow, controlled breath. "But I haven't _stopped_ thinking about it."

His large hands lowered to gather the colorful fabric of her skirt, bunching it around her upper thighs; revealing the tops of her black stockings and the matching straps of her garter belt – all of which he had discovered she wore last night.

A dirty little secret, that was surely going to make working with her every day; knowing that those sexy thigh highs were underneath those pretty dresses she wore, that much harder for him.

"I haven't been able to get the taste of you, out of my mind," he groaned; fingers slipping beneath the elastic strap around her thigh. "Or the feeling of you pressed tightly against me," only to splay them out against her bare skin, needing to touch her "The weight of your breasts in my hands. So full and perfect," watching her eyes widen, and it was only when she started to pant, body slumping forward, that he decided to continue. "The way your hands roamed all over me, and the strength you had, when you held onto my face…and kissed me."

She pushed away, breaking the palpable tension around them – stumbling out of her seat, as she paced the room.

"D-Derek…I…w-we can't-…" she started, only to freeze, when he bolted up and grabbed her arm.

" _Don't_ ," he snarled. "Don't do that to us."

She shook her head; eyes misting over, and he stepped forward – consuming her space, not caring that the blinds were open and that they had caught the curious gazes of a few onlookers.

"Look me in the eye, and tell me, _Penelope_ ," using her name, forcing her attention back onto him. "Tell me, you didn't stay up last night thinking about us," taking a deep breath, dropping his head to whisper in her ear. "I dare you."

And when she stood there, unable to deny the truth, his lips quirked with the smallest of smiles. Releasing her; giving her body a long, heated perusal, before walking away – desperately struggling to tamp down the haunting images that had kept him tossing and turning all night.

* * *

_ _Flashback: Night Before_ _

The sound of Styrofoam cups being smooshed, while loose change rattled and fell to the floor of his SUV, were some of the few minor details of that pivotal moment, Derek Morgan knew, he would never forget.

Like how he had suddenly, quickly, yanked Penelope across the seat, only to have her kneel awkwardly over the large center console between them. Her face was flushed beautifully, eyes doe-like, completely startled, but there was a glimmering darkness there, that was undeniable. A deep yearning gaze, filled with blatant lust, that of which she had obviously spent years – like him – trying to bury, but which her eyes so easily betrayed.

Clamping them shut, she tried to twist away, only for his hand to shoot up, grasp her chin, and hold her in place.

When she finally took a breath and dared to look back up at him through those long, dark lashes, he took the pad of his thumb and traced her plump bottom lip. The sticky layer of her lipstick was gone, and the pretty ruby color, long since faded after their meal, was just faint enough to still make her lips look delectable – causing him to shift in his seat, at the sudden tightness beneath his belt.

He chuckled despite himself, having enjoyed watching her all night delicately dab at her mouth; all prim and proper, completely ladylike – a mastered sensual, coyness that only Penelope could do.

Smiling, remembering their unspoken rule, which let her believe that he had never seen her scarf down her favorite cheesy pizza and belch over three mugs of beer. Though that was one of his fondest memories of her. How she had covered her mouth in embarrassment, sauce still on her cheek and a large stain on her blouse – right next to that button, which had kept her outfit from being inappropriate for work. The one, that he had wanted to pop open all day; imagining the pretty lace of her bra, against her creamy skin.

Her flustered, nearly sloppy state, was so unlike his put together, always matchy-matchy, and adorable, best friend that he couldn't help but to stare in utter shock, when she spent five furious minutes trying to scrub out the marinara. Having drenched her napkin in ice water, scrubbing at the expensive silk – enticingly jiggling her voluptuous tits as she did so, only to huff in annoyance, and take another greedy bite of her favorite food. Though, of course, not before making him pinky promise, that he hadn't seen, or heard, anything.

He took that oath proudly, often thinking back to that famous friendly date from years ago, while he laid wide awake at night – wanting to uncover, unravel, all of her vulnerabilities, all of her quirky habits. To know her daily routines and her biggest fears and dreams. Everything, that made up the beautiful woman before him.

Now looking at her full, pouty lips; her shuddering breaths, warming the palm of his hand, as she stared through hooded eyes; glazed over and anxiously waiting, and he realized, right then, how intrinsically important, his next move was.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you?" his voice was nearly unrecognizable.

She blinked a few times, then shook her head.

"I bet you're thinking, since the moment I called you Gomez?" he stated, brows waggling – releasing the stifling tension coiling around the pair.

She smiled and blushed, only to frown when he shook his head.

"No. That was the moment I knew…I wanted to fuck you," his blunt words, had her eyes shooting wide open, as her jaw fell slack within his hand. "The moment I wanted to kiss you…" tracing her lip once more, only to catch the tear that had slipped down her cheek.

Clearing his throat, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him; knowing his next words were going to expose himself. That he was willingly, bravely… _finally_ , spearing his heart and handing it over to her.

Though his pride wanted him to look away, to cower in the corner, while he took the opportunity – the biggest risk of his life – to confess to the woman, who was already the owner of his love and devotion, that he had undeniable feelings for her.

Taking a breath – now or never.

"Was when I almost lost you. When that _man_ …" voice cracking, unable to say the name of the man, who had shot his Baby Girl and left her to die. That piece of shit, had almost stolen the most precious thing in his life, and Morgan counted his blessings every…single…day, that she had survived.

"Aww, my noir hero" she whispered, hand coming up to cup his cheek – hating that he was still suffering over that tragic instant. That he didn't believe her when she told him, time and time again, that it wasn't his fault.

He shook his head, bringing his other hand up to cover hers, interlocking their fingers, before daring to go on. "Then you found Lynch and I missed my chance," taking a breath, needing to tell her everything, before he came to his senses and chickened out. "Then…I was driving that ambulance," he watched as her eyes darkened, instantly knowing what he was referring to.

Though they had talked about it briefly over the years, she had never fully forgiven him for risking his life like that – for nearly taking him away from her, while all she could do was helplessly sit by, and listen through an earpiece.

"And your voice, Baby…" lowering his hand from her chin to her neck, where he snuck it into those soft, crimson curls. "Your voice, was the only thing I needed to hear…to know that I was safe. But I knew right then…how much I regretted, not having been able to kiss you."

"O-Oh, Hot S-Stuff," she sniffled, with tears streaming down her face, only for her shuddering breath to crumble her composure, as she broke down into sobs. "W-Why didn't you…s-say anything!?" she hiccuped, tugging her hand away from his tight grip, only to smack his shoulder. "Y-You big, hunk of sexy idiot!" smacking him again, only to twist and pull away from him, when he tried to stop her.

"Ow, Babe," trying to wrangle in her hands, but his girl was quick when she wanted to be. Dodging another swift hit to his chest, he raised his voice. "Hey! I'm trying to tell you that I love you!" he shouted, sighing with relief when she froze.

"What the fuck!" she squealed, face red and angry, and he arched his brows at that response – that being the last thing he had expected. "What do you mean, you _love_ me?" using the sleeve of her coat to wipe at her nose and eyes.

"I…love…you," he said slowly; voice low, barely above a whisper, while he secured her hands at a safe distance.

"You…love me?" she repeated dumbly, looking bewildered.

"Yes."

"Like _love-love_ me?"

"Yes."

"And you think that you're the _one_..." yanking her hand out of his tight grasp, to point accusingly at him. "That _I_ …" only to pat her own chest. "L _ove-love_?"

"Yes," he smiled; nodding with certainty.

"All this time?!" voice shrill, as she peered over her frames, which had slipped down her nose during their struggle.

"Yes."

"A-And…you're just _now_ , saying something?"

"Yes."

"Would you stop saying that!" she cried, waving her hands frantically around her, only to cross them over her chest and slump in her seat, as she stared out the window towards the diner.

"Garcia," he tried, only for her to stick her index finger up in the air.

"Give me a moment," she growled, trying to calm her breathing down.

"Okay," nodding his head, hands gripping the steering wheel, as he sat back in his seat, and waited.

And waited…

And waited, some more.

Cursing himself out, wondering once again, how he had royally fucked up, only for the sudden movement next to him to pull him out of his chastising thoughts. Watching, out of the corner of his eye, as she shakily unfastened the buttons of her fuchsia coat, and then slowly shrugged her way out of it.

"What are you-…" he started, then stopped, when she gave him a pointed glare.

She took a deep, calming breath, then struggled for a moment to kick off her cute, buckled heels, before shoving the console as far back as it would go, only to quickly hike up her tight pencil skirt and scramble her way onto his lap.

The moment her legs spread and she straddled his waist, he lost his breath and clutched her hips.

" _Baby Girl_ ," he squeaked; voice pitchy, so unlike his normal, husky vibrato.

"Hmm," she purred, as she placed her hands on his broad shoulders – fingers softly, then firmly, squeezing the taut flesh.

"W-What are you doing?" he rasped out.

Her hands slid across the smooth cotton of his maroon shirt, to play with the open collar; fingers teasing the exposed skin of his chest, before slowly sliding up his neck – scratching the prickle of his five o'clock shadow, only to rest on his cheeks, as she gently cupped his face.

"I've _always_ wanted to fuck you, Derek Morgan," she stated seriously; bright eyes swirling with heat, as she shot his words right back at him – challenging him so beautifully, like he always knew she would in this kind of intimate moment. "And this Goddess, would have made out with you…every…single…day, these last seven years," she leaned in close, lowering her mouth to pepper his jaw with the lightest of caresses. "But do you know, the exact moment…" pulling back, slowly dragging her eyes up to meet his focused ones. "That I really, really, wanted to kiss you?"

He made a noise, something gurgled and incoherent, that made her smile, and she soothingly rubbed her thumbs over his cheeks.

"When you shared a bowl of popcorn with me, during our first movie night," she smiled; unshed tears brimming her lashes, as the honesty of her words collapsed the brittle barrier of what she had been denying herself all of these years. "You remembered that I loved Red Vines and not Twizzlers. And you didn't complain when I picked out the worse chick flick."

He smiled sweetly, and she laughed, dropping a hand to wipe at her wet cheeks.

"Baby," he managed to croak out, splaying his fingers against her bare back – unaware of how they had even snuck beneath her ruffled blouse.

"You filled up my drink before it was empty. You let me rest my feet on your lap, and you even played with my hair, and gently got out any tangles," not letting him interrupt her confession; while also giving up on prettying her face, as the tears silently streamed down her cheeks. "And when I fell asleep half way through, you let me rewind it, and watched it all over again," she laughed, on a chocked sob. "It sounds stupid and really silly…b-but…but you made me feel like…you wanted to be there. That you didn't want to be anywhere else."

"I didn't," voice dark, edged with unwavering sincerity.

"I know, Handsome," her grin was demure, but proud – quelling any of his anxieties. "That night, you made me feel special and loved…and all you did, my sexy Sugar Shack, was sit on the couch with me."

"I wanted to do a lot more than sit with you," he blurted out, before thinking, ruining her tender moment, by bringing awareness to their compromising position – to the repressed sexual tension, that they had dangerously been playing with over the years.

And that was all it took for both of them to surge forward; aiming to capture the others lips, only for their teeth to roughly click and noses to smoosh, as their foreheads smacked into each other.

"Fuck!" Derek grunted in pain, though his hands quickly swept up to assess her injuries on her whimpered ' _Ow_ '.

"You okay, Sweetness?" fingers flying over her face, lifting her bangs to look at her head, checking for any bumps or bruises.

She nodded, adjusting her knees only to sink that much further onto him. Making the harsh denim of his jeans scratch at her inner thighs, as the cool metal of his buckle pressed against the center of her lace panties – fueling the pulsing ache that had already pooled slick heat, which had settled between her legs, from the moment he had declared his love for her.

She looked down between them, surprised to see his large hands drop to her waist, where they slid down to her now bunched skirt, to fiddle with the black straps of her garter belt.

"Fuck," he growled, enjoying the contrasting sensation of her stockings and the peep of bare, creamy thigh, beneath his fingers. "Do you wear these, every day?" frowning at the rather pubescent lilt, that his voice had once again picked up.

"Yes," she purred, smiling smugly down at him.

"Fuck," slamming his head back, nostrils flaring wide, as he clamped his eyes shut. "You're killing me."

Then he felt her yank open his belt; fingers skillfully, releasing the buckle and already tugging down his zipper, before he could even gather enough sense to stop her.

"You can't die on me now," she tsked, with mock gravity. "Not before I get my kiss," eyes locking with his, as her fingers slipped under the biting zipper, to grip his thick, rigid length beneath the soft fabric of his black Calvin Klein's.

He shucked in a breath, and she gasped.

"Wow," she panted; eyes wide in shock, as a blush infused her cheeks. "You've been holding out on me, Hot Stuff," squeezing his dick, as her thumb dragged slowly over the swollen tip.

"Oh, fuck," knocked stupid at the feeling of her palm, rubbing up and down, his already painfully stiff erection. "Damn. Baby Girl," he groaned, only for his hand to clasp tightly around her wrist. "You can't…shit…need to stop," swallowing his tongue, as he tried to calm down, only for the little vixen to giggle and slowly drag her other hand beneath his shirt, where she traced the taut, quivering muscles of his abdomen.

"Penelope!" he barked, stilling her movements.

"I-I thought," she stuttered; embarrassed, she released him entirely and began to pull away.

 _Oh, hell no!_

Realizing she thought he wasn't enjoying himself, he quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, and held her in place

"Where do you think you're going?" he grunted, eyes dark and demanding.

"I-I…you…what?" blinking rapidly, glancing around the stuffy SUV.

He smiled.

She looked back at him, staring in confusion.

And then he kissed her.

Tucking a hand firmly behind her neck, fingers entangling with her loose locks, as he brought her forward and captured her lips with a simple, blistering kiss.

That little zinging spark, pinged electric fervor throughout his body – curling his toes and twitching his dick, and that was all he needed, to sneak his tongue out and beg for entrance, and the moment she granted it, he knew he had discovered the sweetest bit of heaven.

Her hands shot up; one gripping the back of his head, while the other cupped his cheek, as their tongues dueled for dominance – both seeking to plunder and explore the depths of the velvet warmth of each others mouths.

On, and on, they kissed.

He would slow the tempo, sucking on her tongue, as she mewled in excitement, and greedily ground her hips against him.

Then she would pick it back up, nibbling, biting his full bottom lip. Leaving a searing sting upon his tender flesh, only to growl and delve back into his mouth. Teeth clattering, as their hot, panting breath swirled around them.

Though the minute his hands snaked up her waist, sliding over the cute ruffles of her blouse, until they rested right below her full, heaving breasts – pulling a strangled ' _Please_ ' from her kissed bruised lips, he knew he had won.

He cupped her tits, squeezing the heavy weight of them. Smirking proudly, when they overfilled his hands.

"Damn, Garcia," he grunted, only to drop his head and latch onto the smooth, skin of her neck, and suckle.

She writhed excitedly above him, but when his fingers found her nipples underneath the thin layer of silk and lace; pinching them roughly, her palm slammed against the roof of the car – crying out, as she rocked against him.

"O-Oh, my God!" biting her lip, when he lifted his hips and met her quick, frantic thrusts.

Lowering his head, peppering sloppy kisses across her décolletage, only to delve his tongue between her cleavage and lap at the soft, honeysuckle scented, skin, while his fingers tugged, rolled and tweaked her turgid nipples.

Then her body went stiff, only to shake, spasming uncontrollably above him. Letting out an aggressive moan, and the sexiest, feminine cries above him.

She sat there panting; gasping for breath, face twisted in pleasure, and he looked up at her feeling smug.

"Did you just…?" eyes wide in shock, completely mystified at her violent reaction.

She nodded her head, even as her hips still jerked against him.

"Holy shit," he smirked. "Baby, that was…damn girl…the hottest fucking thing."

"Yeah?" she purred.

"Mmhmm."

Leaning down to capture his lips with another tongue tangling kiss, she raised her hips, only for her ass to slam into the steering wheel and honk the horn.

Yelping in shock, she froze, only to scream "Oh, my God!" shifting so suddenly, her elbow hit the window. "We just…in the car…out in public…together!" she rambled wildly.

Lifting her knee to get off of him, only to roll over his very tender family jewels. He jolted, hissing in pain, making her slam back and blare the horn once more.

" _Fuuuck_!" she cried out, only to spot his face twisted in anguish. "Oh, Angelfish! I'm so, sorry!"

"Pen," he grunted.

"Yeah?" squirming around, trying to help.

"Stop moving," giving her a sweet smile, when she nodded her head and finally sat still.

Though as time slinked by, and the heat slowly faded, and the consequences of their actions settled over them, Penelope began to panic.

"I-I…I got to go!" she whispered, reaching for her coat; whacking him in the face with it as she swung the door wide open and scrambled out. "Oh, ow, shit!" she cried, jumping up and down, as chunks of gravel bit cruelly into her stocking clad feet.

Slamming the driver's door shut, she spun around, only to spot the cute elderly couple; eyes wide, mouths slack, staring right back at her. She glared at the white Lincoln Town Car, getting ready to cuss them out for being creepy old voyeurs, when that brisk autumn breeze, snuck into her open blouse, causing her to yelp, as she quickly tucked the torn fabric around her.

Hugging the coat against her chest, blowing her bangs out of her face, as she stuck her nose in the air, trying to gather her composure and excuse herself when the passenger window rolled down.

"You kids are adorable," the woman, whose grey streaked hair was pinned back, leaned over her husband and smiled at Penelope. "Ain't that right, Frank?" giving the tired man a nudge with her elbow.

"Mmhmm," the old man grunted. "Back in our day," flashing a toothy grin, hairy eyebrows waggling comically. "Ellen and I, used to get all kinds of frisky at the Drive-Ins."

" _Ohh_!" Penelope blushed, slowly sneaking away.

"He's a real cutie," Ellen chirped, giving Derek a flirty wave. "Just like my Frankie here!" giving the man with the pot belly, stained checkered shirt and sweaty face, a proud smile. "Best not to let a man that good lookin', outta your sights!"

"I'm sorry," Penelope chirped, giggling nervously. "I umm…have to go!"

Giving Derek a withering glare, she stomped her way; though it was more like an awkward tiptoe, around the front of his large SUV to where her car was parked on the other side.

Reaching her orange beast of a vehicle, she grabbed the door handle, yanking on it angrily a few times, only to groan and slam her head onto the roof. Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned around to see Derek sitting there amused, while holding up her panda purse and heels.

Rolling down the window, he smiled. "Forgetting something?"

"Oh, shut up," she growled, taking the few steps forward to lean inside, only for him to snatch the items away from her. "Derek!" she hissed.

"You're just gonna leave?" voice dark; warm amber eyes, glimmering with miffed rejection.

"Give me my keys!" she barked, eyes misting over – feeling overwhelmed with the reality of what had happened.

Her response was to flee, to get far, far away from the man, who she so desperately wanted to tear his clothes off of and fuck in the back seat of his SUV. Though, that couldn't happen. So it was best that she left; needing to collect herself, and pretend, that their kiss…never happened. Yes, that would be easier, and less painful, in the end.

"Please," she sniffled, holding out her palm expectantly.

He frowned, dropped her stuff in the passenger seat, and sat there. Hating how her tires had spun out, as she quickly drove away.

Doing his best to temper down his raging emotions. Though there was one lingering thought, that wouldn't leave.

 _Strawberries._

Penelope tasted like strawberries and peaches. But also spicy, like cinnamon, and everything sweet and forbidden.

_ _End of Flashback_ _

* * *

Sitting in his office, tucking his hands behind his head, as he leaned back to stare up at the ceiling, only to smirk when his cellphone buzzed in his lap.

Derek didn't have to check the ID, to know exactly who it was. Unlocking his cell, he quickly scanned the screen and smiled.

 **Yes. I thought about it.**

Her message read, and the little heart emoji after it, had his own heart swelling with renewed hope.

And he knew, right then, that he was definitely, getting another kiss.

To be continued…


	5. V

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! Just a few more chapters to go :)  
**

 **Story Warnings: Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter V

There were very few things in life that SSA Derek Morgan absolutely hated. Some of those things were:

His insomnia. He had regretfully spent one too many countless nights tossing and turning, and even going as far as drinking warm milk and counting sheep; seeking the peaceful slumber that his body so desperately craved, only to glare up at the ceiling every morning, when his alarm clock went off.

He also loathed those back-to-back cases that had him traveling across country, keeping him away from his favorite things, like renovating his properties, and getting to walk his rambunctious pup, Clooney, but most importantly; though he loved seeing her dazzling smile on screen and hearing her sweet, husky voice, he missed being able to wrap his Baby Girl up in a tight hug.

An infectious smile covered his face, when he thought about tucking his favorite woman closely against him; wanting to be enveloped in that comforting warmth she so easily radiated. That alluring blend of peaches and jasmine, which always snuck its way into his shirts, because he spent so much free time with her.

Then, there were…snakes.

Oh, those evil, slithering, beady-eyed, bastards, made Morgan squeal like a preteen girl and run for his life. Yes, reptiles gave him the heebie-jeebies. He never liked them, never would.

It was one of his best kept secrets, well, that is, until Garcia had accidentally found out about it. A few years ago, his best friend had decided to bring an ' _adorable_ ' new toy to work for her computer desk. She had spun around in her chair; giggling and ecstatic, to show off the rubbery green and yellow thing, only for him to shriek and fumble over his feet. Grunting, lips twisting into a frown, remembering that he had landed in her pink butterfly trash can. His booted foot had gotten stuck, causing him to twist his ankle, as he clumsily dashed out of her lair, while her worried screams, turned uncontrollable laughter, followed him into the bullpen.

Furthering his embarrassment, he then had to lie to the rest of the team. Coming up with some elaborate story about how he had hurt himself in the gym, and Garcia – oh, the little shit had teased him about it for months, and every now and then, she still did it.

Planting colorful snakes all over the BAU, his go-bag and desk, or even the box of protein bars in the kitchenette, and how she had managed to put one in the glove compartment of his SUV, was beyond him. And sometimes, while presenting a case, she would emphasize the _'S'_ in every word, then peep her cute, pink tongue out and lick those full, pouty lips – simultaneously stopping his heart and stirring his dick to life, only to make him scowl, when she winked and hissed at him from across the room.

Hell, a few weeks ago, she had snuck up behind him, softly blowing hot air into the crook of his neck, as her fingers playfully trailed up his spine, making him spill coffee all over his shirt, and so, he had made her promise; having her swear on her family of troll dolls, feathered glitter pens and her infamous collection of shoes. Ninety-one, to be exact. Yes, the woman had that many heels, stilettos, wedges, boots and flats, everything but sneakers.

No, _Thee Oracle-of-all-Knowing_ _Garcia_ , did not own one single pair of tennis shoes, which she had declared; slightly tipsy, with pride, over a glass of wine, as she had helped him build a giant shoe rack for her overstuffed closet. Though, Morgan really couldn't complain, as he loved watching her flared, swaying hips enter and leave a room, on those high, sexy heels of hers. But even still, she was sworn to secrecy. Crossing her heart, and pinky promising, never to spill the beans about his phobia.

Something else he hated, was having to tell his mother that he couldn't make it home for the holidays. Feeling guilty, because he was still able to hear Fran's stern disappointment from all those years ago. Though now, older and wiser, it was his top priority, every winter, to have a booked plane ticket to Chicago. Never wanting to have his sisters call him up, putting him on speaker phone, as his mother blasted her favorite Christmas tunes, while sipping spiked eggnog and crying over the family photo album.

No, that was definitely a thing, he wanted to keep from ever happening again.

Another thing, that Morgan despised, was men who abused children. In his books, nothing could justify tainting a youngster's childhood. That was definitely at the top of his, _I will kick down your door, tackle you, and send you to prison for the rest of your life_ , shit list.

His ears became hot, as his mind dredged up those vile memories. Scratching his head with the eraser end of his pencil, he sunk lower into his seat and took some deep calming breaths, before scanning the bullpen to clear his thoughts.

Yes, he hated a lot of things, though there were only two things, that Morgan was scared of.

One being, loss. He dreaded the thought of losing his mother, sisters, teammates, and his Baby Girl. It was unfathomable, and he would gladly risk his own life, to keep the ones he loved safe.

And the other thing?

Well, the other, was the thing he feared most…

It would make his palms sweat, stomach clench, as his flight response kicked in, begging him to flee.

And that, was a pissed off, Penelope Anne Garcia.

The brilliant, bespectacled, bubbly blonde; all luscious curves and vibrancy, could become a raging spitfire in a split second. Her warm, hazel eyes would narrow, cheeks flushed, hands flailing wildly around her, as she ran a hole in the rug and prattled on about the _thing_ that had knocked his adorable Goddess for a loop.

It was something that happened on very, very rare occasions.

In fact, Morgan could name each _Garcia-Meltdown_ on a single hand, though he also wasn't willing to admit that every incident…involved him. Nor was he going to admit, that not only had his tail been tucked between his legs, but his dick had swelled to life, painfully twitching beneath his belt, each and every time. It was completely thrilling, and downright terrifying, how an angry Garcia, made his blood boil with simpering lust.

Discreetly dropping a hand to his lap, he quickly adjusted his suddenly tight pants. Taking a deep breath, nervously glancing around the bullpen, before catching the time on the large overhead clock, only to frown. Tapping his pencil against the desk, he was just about to doodle on his case report, when that familiar click-clacking of heels echoed across the linoleum floors of the BAU.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and beads of sweat gathered above his furrowed brows, when the large glass door swung open.

"Hey, Garcie!" JJ smiled, walking down the ramp from Hotch's office, only to stop and tilt her head, as she observed her friend. "Um, are you…is everything, okay?"

Derek shucked in a breath, ducking his head down, as he snuck a peak through his fingers.

"Of course, my precious Gum Drop," Penelope chirped; voice strained, with the nerves of a rehearsed answer.

"Are you sure?" JJ stepped closer, lifting a hand to touch Garcia's forehead – keeping it there a moment, like a worried mother hen, checking for a high temperature.

"Yeah," batting her hands away. "Why?"

Emily emerged from the kitchenette, with a bagel smothered in cream cheese and a piping hot mug of coffee, only to come to an abrupt halt. "Whoa, Garcia! What happened to you?"

Penelope whirled around, only to catch sight of Derek cowering at his old desk; giving him a pointed glare, before plastering on a wide grin, as she looked at the other agent.

"Nothing is wrong, my Raven Beauty," shifting her heavy purse on her shoulder, as she fiddled with her tablet.

"Have you…um," Emily used the bagel to gesture towards her, dropping a dollop of cream cheese on the floor. "Seen you?"

Derek dared to look back up then, needing to see for himself the cause for their concern…and boy, did they have a right to be.

Garcia stood there, wearing a cute, grey tweed skirt; falling right above her knees, that she donned with simple black tights, and matching stiletto ankle boots. He had spotted those suede shoes in her closest a few times, and had always imagined what they would look like on her – oh, and they did not disappoint, they were hot as hell. Feeling his dick twinge with yearning, he swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth, and tried to refocus.

Taking in the rest of her appearance, he stared at her white blouse; buttons all askew. It was too plain, and rather frumpy, but underneath the harsh fluorescent lights, her white silk bra was peeping through, and he couldn't really complain.

Then to his surprise he noticed that she wasn't wearing any jewelry, no dangling bracelets, crafty necklaces, or chunky rings. The only shiny thing on her, were the small pair of pink pearl earrings. It was perhaps the dullest outfit he had ever seen on her. On anyone else, it would look completely normal, totally professional, but on her? Well, though she looked like a sexy, little secretary, it was all wrong.

Lastly he spotted her crimson curls, held up in a crooked, messy low ponytail, with none of her typical cute, sparkling barrettes or flowers. And her makeup, or rather, lack thereof, left Derek speechless. Penelope's face was nearly bare, with just mascara, glossed lips, and black frames – making her look younger, vulnerable, and absolutely adorable.

She was fucking breathtaking, and totally pissed off.

And he, was in deep, deep trouble, and completely turned on.

"Yes," Penelope sighed, wrinkling her nose. "I looked in the mirror before I left the house," her voice was unusually biting, eyes narrowed with warning – causing Derek to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Hmm, well," Emily smirked, intrigued by her frazzled friend. "It's just…where's the color? The pizzazz. Ya know…" walking closer, as she plopped down at the edge of Morgan's desk. "All that flashy shit you wear?"

"Not that you don't look beautiful," JJ quickly added, smiling brightly and nodding happily – encouraging everyone in the room to agree with her. "Just, it's not…the normal you," she muttered softly.

Penelope's gaze dropped to her feet, and frowned, only to look back up – shoulders slouched, expression weary. "Well it was just…I was busy, and I had so much to do…and, and Kevin found out-," gasping, stopping herself from blabbing; daring a quick glance towards Derek. "It was um…a rough morning."

The minute tears welled up in those warm, dark honey eyes, Derek sprung forward, getting ready to stand up, but when she glared at him with such heated angst, he clenched his fists and sat still.

"Garcie?" JJ dropped her stuff on Reid's desk, and rushed towards her, only for Penelope to shake her head, twirl around on those staggering high heels, and dash towards her lair.

Leaving the room in awkward silence.

Derek felt horrible, breathing strained, as he fought the raging emotions festering inside of him. Doing his best to tamp down his aching dick, which seemed to have a mind of its own, while also trying to ease his guilty conscious.

Though a swift smack to the back of his head, yanked him out of his thoughts.

"Hey," he shouted, lifting his arm up to block his face from another attack.

"What did..." _swat._ "You…" _swat_ , _swat_. "Do?" JJ's harsh, clipped tone reprimanded.

"Huh?" brows furrowed in confusion.

"Don't play coy with me, Morgan," raising the magazine once more, only for Emily to swiftly snatch it away from her.

Scowling, tapping the magazine on her thigh. "Spill."

Derek stared back and forth at them; mouth slightly agape, eyes darting around the room for a quick escape, only to catch Reid's expression of perplexed interest.

"Hey, Reid," he joked, flashing one of his big, cheesy grins. "Help a man out!"

Reid pursed his lips, head cocked to the side, and then shrugged. "Well, considering JJ is tapping her foot, and Em's jaw is doing that weird ticking thing…" clearing his throat, brushing his bangs out of his face, when Prentiss gave him a stern glare. "I um…well, I think that whatever you did. You should just confess to it, because it seems rather pointless to argue," spinning back around in his seat, he lifted his case file and stuck his nose in it, only to shout over his shoulder. "And since Garcia is clearly angry, it obviously means...it's your fault."

"Thanks, kid," rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, he braced himself for the inquisition.

"What did you do to Garcia?" JJ came out with it, gnawing on her lip, as she tucked a sleek, blonde lock behind her ear.

"Me?" Derek objected – suddenly defensive, only to growl when he was hit on the shoulder.

Prentiss swatted him once more, before unfurling the flimsy magazine to fan herself with it; face set with determination. "Were you, hiding out here…" arching a manicured brow, not wasting time beating around the bush. "So you wouldn't get in trouble?"

Morgan's jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, and his partner smiled.

"I'll take that as a yes," giving JJ a knowing look.

"Derek," JJ nudged, then tugged on Reid's arm, forcing him to reluctantly get up and join the little circle around Morgan's desk. "You need to tell us."

"Would you all drop it, and mind your own business," letting out a frustrated sigh.

"So, something did happen?" JJ piped up, slamming her hands on top of the cluttered desk to stare down at him.

"I don't know what-…" floundering for words, only for that nasally voice to save him the trouble of finding an explanation.

"Morgan!" Lynch bellowed, stomping his way towards the agents. "Who the hell do you think you are kissing my, Plum Sauce!"

"Oh, damn," Prentiss snorted, eyes wide in shock, though there was no hiding her amusement.

"Stand up!" Kevin was now a few feet away, drawing a crowd from the rest of the room. "Come on!" shoving his glasses up his nose, as he held up his two fists; gulping, even as he bounced on his dirty, untied sneakers.

Squaring his shoulders and gritting his teeth, Derek pushed the chair away from the desk and slowly stood up, though not before catching both Hotch and Rossi on the platform, sternly looking back at him.

"Look man-," holding up his hand, trying to reason with the red faced man, only to get sucker punched in his jaw.

"Lynch, that's enough!" Hotch barked, already making his way towards them.

Kevin howled in pain, shaking his arm, as he rubbed his already bruised fist. "I always knew your friendship was more," he spat, getting a little slobber on his chin. " _Oh, Kevin_ ," he whined, mimicking a girly pitch. " _He's just my best friend_ ," starting to pace around the cramped desks. "You know how long I've had to put up with _Hot Stuff_ this, and _Hot Stuff_ that?" stopping to glare. "She's my girlfriend, NOT your Baby Girl!" voice shrill, sticking his nose up for intimidation, only to look like a kid throwing a tantrum.

Morgan rubbed his jaw, eyes flashing dangerously, and then he took a confident step closer.

"Look here, you little shit," he growled, easily sidestepping Spencer, and shaking off Emily's firm grip. "She was my best friend before your raggedy ass showed up," now towering over the man. "And she'll be my best friend for the rest of my life," narrowing his gaze. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Kevin swallowed, and shook his head. "N-No," he stuttered; unaware of how the tables had so easily turned against him.

"Yeah, I kissed her," voice dark, bleeding the truth and his unwavering pride. "And I plan on doing it again. Very soon."

Kevin gasped, and JJ shucked in a breath, though she couldn't quite hide her smile.

"W-Why you…you," Kevin paled, waving his arms around. "Big, asinine thief!"

"Penelope's not an object!" Derek growled, about to step up in Lynch's face, only to be blocked by Hotch and Rossi. "She's a grown woman, who gets to make her own decisions."

"Yeah?" Kevin laughed, though the sound wasn't pretty, it was downright mocking. "Well, she chose me, not you!" crossing his arms victoriously.

The wind instantly diminished from Derek's sails, though there was no defeating his determination. "You don't deserve her."

"And you do?" Lynch chortled, looking around the room for support, only to get looks of charitable pity.

"That's the difference between you and I," taking a steadying breath, though that tingle of awareness pulled his gaze towards the corner, where he spotted Penelope silently staring back at him. Her face was tear streaked, arms wrapped around herself, and his heart crumbled in his chest.

For he had lied before, because there was one thing that he hated above all else, and that, was seeing his Baby Girl cry.

"I know I don't deserve her, and you foolishly think you do," he continued, never breaking his connection with her, as he stepped closer and lowered his voice so only Lynch could hear. "And the sooner you realize that she doesn't want you, or need you. The easier it will be for you."

Lynch shoved Morgan away, turning around in exasperation, only to still when he caught sight of Penelope.

"Kevin," she squeaked out, face flushed with embarrassed heat, as the rest of the room quickly tried to busy themselves.

"Plum Sauce," Lynch cried, pointing an accusing finger at Morgan. "Tell him. Tell him it was a mistake. And that you belong with me."

Rossi shook his head, mumbling Italian profanities underneath his breath.

"You're disrupting my agents," Hotch's voice was cold; unflinching, as he stared Lynch down. "And you already injured one of them. I think it's best that you leave."

Ignoring the warning, Kevin stepped closer towards Garcia. "Come on, Penny!" running a hand through his greasy hair. "You can't honestly think this lying bastard, loves you!?"

Penelope took a step back, mouth falling open, and JJ rushed to her side, trying to get her out of the room.

"Why would he?" Lynch's face twisted into an unpleasant sneer, as he became increasingly desperate. The idea of rejection fueling his plight to salvage their already ruined relationship. "He's using you! Can't you see that?"

"I'd stop talking if I were you," Rossi advised, gaze bristling with fury.

"He's a no-good womanizer and he treats you like his personal lap dog," he huffed in annoyance. "You follow him around with your puppy eyes, and he knows it. You're the chubby, geeky girl who fell for the hot jock, and everyone is too ashamed to say anything. Stop embarrassing yourself, Penelope. It's pathetic," whirling around to scowl at Derek. "He doesn't love you. He just wants to fuck you."

That was the wrong thing to say, and the bone chilling crunch was his response.

Lynch howled, holding a hand over his face, as blood gushed from his nose and down his hideous paisley shirt; erupting the room into utter chaos.

To be continued...


	6. VI

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! Also, sorry for the slight delay, but my muse insisted on adding things :)  
**

 **Story Warnings: Sexual Situations and Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter: VI

 _The wet heat of his tongue lapped at the sensitive peak of her breast. Nibbling, tugging, almost biting the furled, petal pink flesh, until it stung – making her whimper and spread her legs just a little wider – only for him to gather as much of her tit into the velvet warmth of his mouth; soothing it, as he suckled with greedy pleasure._

 _"Mmm," she purred, thrusting a hand behind his head, pressing him harder against her._

 _His large, calloused palm, slowly trailed a path over her ribs and down her side, possessively squeezing her soft tummy, before grabbing her hip and sliding lower, so he could raise her leg and hold it around his waist._

 _"Derek," she whined._

 _Releasing her tit with a loud, slobbery 'pop', he proudly smirked above her – dark eyes locking with hers, as he licked a fiery path across her chest to give her other breast the same tormenting attention._

 _Sweat matted her bangs and she growled. Glaring up at the ceiling; hating the burning ache that quaked her womb. She placed one hand on her now chafed, lonely tit – rolling the swollen, tender flesh between her colorful, neon fingers, while her other hand dropped to her knee and covered Derek's hand._

 _She gasped then, as his strong tongue slowly swirled around her nipple, only to suction around the rosy bud and quickly flick at it – pooling sweet, exquisite heat between her thighs, making her writhe beneath him._

 _"Ooh, Hot Stu-fuck…please," cinching her eyes shut; losing her self-awareness, as she became desperate for his touch._

 _Needing to be built up, to climb that not so distant sensuous pinnacle, so she could drown in waves of what she knew to be an earth-shattering orgasm._

 _He lifted his head, panting warm air into her face, before capturing her lips in that demanding, oh-so-fucking-hot, Morgan way. She smiled. A wide, happily content grin, that had him grunting in agreement, as he silenced her whimpers by forcing his tongue into her mouth._

 _Teeth clattering, tongues dueling for that elusive dominance, as she grabbed his wrist, guiding him to her slick, intimate folds – letting out a muffled cry when he got the message, and delved two long, lithe fingers inside of her. Parting her, opening her up to him, as his thumb lazily rubbed her swollen clit – creating a beautiful, teasing rhythm that only he knew the conclusion to._

 _"Ooh, yeees!" she moaned, back arching, hips grinding upwards, "Derek!"_

She had bolted awake then, sweating and irritable, blinded by the harsh morning sunlight, completely aroused, as she sat tangled in her sheets with soaked panties.

Derek had kissed Penelope in his SUV, tilting her world upside down, and changing everything between them. Making this, perhaps the most emotionally stressful week of her life. She was jittery, so anxious and wound up, that she hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep in days, because her best friend, had decided to leave her utterly speechless and miserably horny.

This had been her third sexually charged dream in a row. The tall, dark, and handsome man with abs of steel and the most loving heart she had ever known, was haunting her – leaving her frenzied for his touch. Having experienced the best make out session of her life, it took less than ten minutes for her heart to be totally obliterated for any other man. She was an addict, itching for her next fix, craving the blistering heat that only he could so easily, expertly, incite within her.

Oh, she wanted him, and she wanted him bad.

There was just one, teensy, little problem.

She still had a boyfriend.

Panting; using her floral sheets to dab at her face, she reached for her glasses on the nightstand, only to gasp when she spotted Kevin standing underneath the doorway – still in his pajamas, hands wrapped tightly around a mug of coffee – silently seething.

Scratch that. It was a very, big problem.

"H-Hey," she croaked out; voice raspy with sleep and laced with guilt.

They had gotten into a bit of a quarrel last night. Kevin had wanted to cuddle up, and watch a marathon of one of his favorite sci-fi shows, which she knew would lead to him wanting to have sex. In fact, she had been putting him off all week. Penelope just couldn't fathom the idea of having him touch her, not after she knew how Derek felt, and tasted. That thought alone made her slam her legs shut, trying to ease the ache that pulsed between her thighs, only to make her feel like the world's worst girlfriend.

So, rather than confessing her indiscretions; desperately wanting to avoid hurting his feelings, she had picked a fight – each and every night, over something trivial and mundane – pushing him away, making him sleep on the couch, while she hid out in her room, muffling her hiccuping sobs.

"You had _another_ one?" his biting accusation cut through her like glass.

"W-What?" sitting up, clutching the soft sheets like a safety blanket – sensing the brewing storm that was about to implode.

"I could hear you moaning his name," slamming his cup down onto her vanity dresser. " _Ooh, Derek_!" mimicking her breathy whimpers.

Her mouth fell open in shock; floundering like a fish, trying to speak.

"You know, I ignored your _sex dreams_ …" spitting it out like it was a vile disease. "When we first started dating," shaking his head, as he paced inside her cramped room – rattling her beaded curtains. "I turned a blind eye, because you reassured me that you two were just friends. And you stopped it," standing at the foot of her bed, peering over his thick, black frames. "So, what changed?"

"Huh?" swallowing her parched tongue; mouth suddenly full of cotton. "I-I-…"

"Look at you!" he gestured to her tousled appearance – to her still flaming cheeks, heavy lidded gaze, and turgid nipples that were peeking through the thin silk of her polka dotted nightie. "I've dated you long enough to know when you're turned on!"

"I talk in my sleep?" she mumbled dumbly, only to nibble on her bottom lip, when he frowned in disgust.

She had always battled Derek emerging in her dreams. He had a starring role in her dark, nightly fantasies since the day they've met. She enjoyed their teasing banter, having been stunned and downright thrilled, at how he could get her juices flowing from their conversations, or even from a simple hello.

She would rush home and take a long soak in a bubble bath to calm her nerves, and when that didn't help, she would rinse off in a cold shower, or drink a glass of wine or two, sometimes three, to forget about him. Though when none of that worked, she gave up, having to resort to buying a collection of naughty toys to deal with her pent up frustrations.

Penelope felt bad, like a lustful, thirsty nymph, who was betraying her best friends trust, and though she furiously tried in vain, she just couldn't help but to cum to the image of him. Afterwards, while lying in bed spent, she would roll over and fall asleep, only for him to appear in her dreams, all strong and hard or sweet and tender. It didn't matter what he was doing, as long as it was him doing it to her, she would wake up blistering like an inferno, throbbing with need.

Then she had met Kevin, and she had done her best to bury those desires. Feeling proud of herself for having gained some semblance of control back. However, looking at her boyfriend's wounded expression, discovering that she had talked in her sleep and Kevin had heard her calling out Derek's name in ecstasy; many times, embarrassingly more, than she wanted to believe – had heard her shamelessly hot, dirty secret, which she had been foolishly denying herself for way too long.

It was a big ol' dose of reality.

That she, Penelope Garcia, was madly in love with Derek Morgan – had been for years, would undoubtedly be…for the rest of her life.

It was silly, probably the craziest thing she had ever allowed herself to believe in, but the moment his lips touched hers and sent electric sparks shooting throughout her body, she knew. Knew that the way he had clutched her against him, had growled possessively into her mouth as he devoured her with a carnal kiss – a beautiful balance of powerful vulnerability, she knew instantly, that Derek had the exact same feelings for her.

It was completely liberating – about damn fucking time, her heart had screamed, even as her mind fumbled with insecurities. Though she was only filled with hope, when Derek had spent the rest of the week, trying to trap her in her office, or in the kitchenette, or on the elevator, hell, he had even snuck up behind her in the parking garage, just so he could try and get another kiss – adamantly letting her know that he wanted more, that it wasn't just a onetime thing.

Her heart had soared, and her libido had revved back to life – keeping her distracted all night, as her body begged for his touch, making her call out his name…while her boyfriend was in the other room…her boyfriend…was in the other room…while her mind conjured up Derek, who was knuckles deep fucking her until her eyes rolled back into her head. It was hot as hell, and so terribly wrong because…

Oh, my God!

She had a boyfriend.

Oh, Kevin.

Oh…shit.

Body coiling with guilt, she could face palm herself – hating the fat tears that she quickly had to blink away, before they rolled down her cheeks.

 _Great going, Garcie! You sure did get yourself into a bit of a pickle._

"Answer me, Plum Sauce!" he whined, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "What the hell does Morgan have that I don't?"

She flushed, clamped her mouth shut, and looked away. Wisely not pointing out all of the wonderful, gloriously sexy aspects that Derek had. No, that would be too cruel.

"Are you cheating on me?" his voice had softened, though when he was only met with deafening silence, he became shrill, almost frantic. "Yes you are! I mean, it has to be that, why else would you be dreaming of him fu-…" waving his hands around, not able to say the incriminating thing. "Doing God knows what to you…again?!" adjusting his cotton tee, the one with the large spaghetti sauce stain on it from two weeks ago, that he had yet to clean.

Wrinkling her noise, wondering when she had decided to…settle.

Taking a calming breath, before tearing the sheet off of her overheated body, and fumbling out of bed.

"Kevin…I…nothing…" lowering her head, wringing out her hands – needing to confess, but not wanting to hurt him.

He was far from perfect, but he wasn't a monster. She was the one kissing another man, riding Derek in the parking lot, and dreaming about him _fucking_ her at night; _all_ night, many, many times. She was wrong, though it didn't make it any easier to admit, especially since she was aware that everything was about to change, and Penelope, was not good with change.

"I…we…" surging past him, needing the extra space in the living room to clear her thoughts.

"Oh, my God!" he cried, following closely behind her. "Did you-…are you two…hooking up?"

"No!" she screeched, face flaming red at that allegation – even though her body was primed and ready to go.

"Do you want to?" grabbing her wrist, twisting her back around to look at him.

"What!? No way! I-I…we…of course not," she mumbled lamely, staring at a spot on the wall behind him.

She had never been a good liar.

"Jesus," letting her go, as he slumped down onto the couch. "Have you…wanted this the whole time, we've been together? Do you think of _him_ ," he gritted out; voiced strained with revulsion. "When we're having sex?"

"No, God no!" shaking her head; tangled curls bouncing around her shoulders, as she dug her bare feet into the cool, itchy carpet. "How can you ask that?"

He held her gaze prisoner, over the cluttered coffee table. Him, scrutinizing her honesty. Her, trying to convince herself.

"Well, I'm having a hard time believing that!" he spat. "With you two hanging out all the time," sticking a finger high up in the air, with each damning thing. "The nicknames. The touches. Hell, even the way he looks at you…"

"How does he look at me?" eyes narrowing with confusion, but the curious, hopeful lilt in her voice had him scowling, and her stepping back.

"See!" he shouted. "Clearly you two, have been having a secret affair this whole time!"

"Kev-…" rolling her eyes from exasperation or nerves, she didn't know.

"No!" he huffed. "Tell me…please. I deserve to know if you have been sleeping with him, Penny!" bouncing his leg, with pent up frustration. "You owe me that much."

"We didn't have sex," stomping her foot. "We just kissed!" she blurted out, and then gasped – hand flying over her mouth, as her eyes shot wide open.

 _Oops._

"Kissed?" he whispered; hands digging into his thighs, bunching up those hideous Chewbacca printed boxers.

"It was an accident!" she rambled, only to cringe from the hole she was digging herself into.

"How the _fuck_ did you accidentally kiss someone, Plum Sauce?" he bellowed; catching his second wind.

"I…well…umm," sniffling, voice cracking with the weight of her consequences.

"Huh?" waving a hand around. "Was he giving you CPR? No! Lemme guess, you tripped and he caught you with his lips? Is that what you expect me to believe?"

Wiping at her cheeks, only to wrap her arms protectively around herself.

"I thought you were done chasing after him," his voice was cold, as he narrowed his gaze, only to chuckle. "You _accidentally_ ," using dramatic air quotes. "Kissed him, and now you think he wants you?"

"He kissed me back!" sticking her nose in the air – suddenly defensive.

"Wow, Penny. I didn't think you could be such a bitch. But a stupid one at that," slowly clapping his hands, only to sit up. "No! You know what?" pointing his finger at her accusingly. "I blame that stupid cabaret show that you're in. I knew that it was gonna be too much for you," shaking his head. "I mean, I get that you wanted to try to be… _sexy_ ," snorting with comical disbelief. "But it obviously turned my girlfriend into a slut."

"That's not true and you know it!" hating the watery waver in her voice. "You knew that I was doing this for me. That I wanted to feel better about myself. It has nothing to do with you, or Derek," feeling her face heat. "This show is important to me. And I've been rehearsing for weeks-…"

"To fuck another man!" he spat.

Her jaw dropped, and her ego deflated, as tears slipped down her cheeks, and her heart unfurled that knotted pain. "Kev…I…I'm sorry, that's not-…" fumbling over words, realizing how it all looked.

Holding his hand up, silencing her.

"Just…" standing up. "Forget it. I'm done."

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she squeaked an incoherent protest. Though when he stopped, looking at her from across the room; expectant, almost optimistic, and she found herself unable to stop him – to find the words, or the strength to fight for him to stay, they both knew the answer.

That their nearly three-year, lukewarm relationship, was over.

Kevin quickly yanked on his jeans, grabbed his jacket, wallet and keys, gave her one last look, before slamming the door behind him. Leaving her just enough time to throw on some lackluster clothes, brush her teeth, and rush off to work.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing the throbbing migraine that had been unrelenting all day, Penelope slowly eased herself into the steaming water of her bubble bath; trying to enjoy the soothing heat from the perfumed water and the cool draft from the open bathroom door. Not wanting to think about what had happened after she had shown up to work today.

Having replayed the day's events, over and over again, like a broken record. She had decided to calm her nerves by taking a relaxing soak, only to have nothing to distract herself with, as she dredged up their break up once more. Now she was exhausted, grumpy, heartbroken, confused, still achingly horny, and pissed off.

No, Penelope was not happy, and she had no one to blame, but herself.

Shaking off the thoughts, she leaned over the side of her cramped tub, sloshing water around her legs and onto the tiled floor, as she reached for the Stella Rosa. The cheap, Moscato wine was too fruity, and was missing the biting, bitter kick she was looking for, but her mind was rapidly becoming fuzzy, with the heady, lulling effects of alcohol. Taking a giant swig out of the bottle, letting the pink liquid dribble down her chin, swishing it around her mouth, before lazily wiping it off.

Resting her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes, holding the bottle between her bare breasts – wondering how she had managed to dry hump her best friend and become single in less than a week. Granted, the two kinda, sorta, basically went hand-in-hand, but still, it didn't mean that it hurt any less.

"Stupid men," she grumbled to herself, taking another large sip, as she glared at the shitty beach scented candle at the foot of the tub.

This week sucked.

Her mind flashed to the fight that had broken out inside the bullpen. The one which had left Kevin with a broken nose, and Morgan and Garcia in quite a bit of trouble, which had unfortunately resulted in her having all the free time in the world to contemplate her life, and her week from hell.

"Stupid Derek, and his stupid, hot body," she pouted, swirling the bottle around – frowning when it was empty. "Oh, fuck me!" slamming her head back, only to freeze when her cell phone, which was on the pink zebra bathmat next to her, chimed with that familiar ringtone.

Dropping the bottle into the water, she shook out her hand and then jammed her finger into the big, red button; effectively ending the call. A smug grin crossed her face, and she was just about to sink back into her warm, bubbly heaven, when her phone went off again, and again…and again.

Glaring at the offending object, which had Derek's smirking face, flashing on the caller ID.

"Leave me 'lone," she slurred, getting ready to turn off her phone, only to squeal in shock at the loud, pounding knock coming from her front door.

"Baby Girl!" that deep, magnetic voice shouted from outside. "I know you're in there."

"Go 'way!" she yelled back, adjusting the clip in her hair – making it tighter, needing something to focus on.

"Nuh uh!" he knocked again. "C'mon Sweetness, Lemme in!" a few silent beats, and then a determined, "Please!"

"I'm busy!" she cried.

"Bullshit!" he shot back.

Her eyes narrowed, and she sputtered.

"We need to talk!" jiggling the handle. "Or do you want me to shout, so all your neighbors can hear?"

 _Why, what a little shit!_

 _Sexy, as hell, but a shit, nonetheless._

Sitting up, splashing water all over the place, as she frantically tried to find the chain that would drain the tub.

"Garcia!" he barked. "Woman, open this door!"

Ignoring the cell phone that was once again going off, she sighed in relief when she found it, tugging on the little chain, she stood up and nearly slipped from the lavender oils that she had generously poured inside her bath. Steadying herself, grabbing a small towel, she quickly patted her skin down, and was just about to step out of the tub when…

"Oh, damn! Holy…fuck!" Derek choked out, now standing beneath her bathroom doorway, totally thunderstruck.

She shrieked, one hand flying over her chest, stumbling back into the slick, tiled wall, as her other hand shot forward for balance, yanking on the shower curtain, only to tear the pole off the rack and hit her head.

"Oww, frack!" she screamed, rubbing her head, as she fumbled with the wet plastic. "Get out!"

"Whoa, easy," concerned, he stepped closer. "Baby, be careful."

" _Morgan_!" gritting her teeth, as she wrapped the curtain around her body. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"Umm…" his Adam's apple jutted out, as he gulped. "We need to talk."

"No, I mean…how did you get in here," angrily putting the shower pole back up in frustration, only to clear her throat when he didn't immediately respond.

Leaning against the door frame, he shook the golden key in the air. "I used this."

"That key," she huffed. "Is for emergencies!"

"Well you wouldn't open the door," furrowing his brows.

"I…was taking…a bath!" she growled, stepping out of the now empty tub, as she shoved her glasses back onto her face.

"Yeah, I noticed," his voice became a little deeper, like that husky lilt he would use in her dreams.

"Hot Stuff," she groaned, giving him a heated glare.

"Hey, did you drink all of that?" pointing to the bottle, lying in the tub.

Pursing her lips, chin jutted out in defiance. " _Nooo_ ," she mumbled, though her goofy grin, and glassy, half-lidded gaze, wasn't convincing.

He clucked his tongue in disapproval, though his lips quirked with amusement.

"You know what wine does to you," giving her a knowing look.

"I was…t-thirsty," she hiccuped, before storming past him; soaking wet and loudly swishing plastic, into the living room, only to point at the door. "Go. Home," speaking slowly, hoping he would get the message.

"It's see-through," he smirked.

"What?" she frowned, wanting to roll her eyes at the absurdity of it all.

"The…" waving his hands towards her. "Curtain. I can…see…"

Her face lost all expression, as his words slowly registered through the liquor induced haze of her mind, and then she looked down, only to gasp, sputter, and screech once more. For her clear rubber ducky shower curtain, was indeed absolutely, embarrassingly, see-through. Looking back up in horror, only to gasp when she spotted his dark gaze, blatantly perusing her body.

"Don't look!" she spat, as she frantically twirled around in search of cover.

Hissing in a sharp breath, he slowly spun around; holding his hands behind his back, only to shift uncomfortably – adjusting his pants and clearing his throat, before crossing his arms instead.

"Move!" she barked, smacking him out of the way of her room, only for him to accidentally step on the long curtain that was dragging behind her.

The sudden change in momentum propelled her forward, tearing the now torn plastic out her weak grasp, causing her to stumble into her nightstand, knocking over her many trinkets and lamp, as she crumpled to the floor – completely naked.

"Son of a rat's ass!" she howled, flailing around on the ground and trying not to puke, as the magenta walls of her room spun around.

"Damn, girl," Derek moaned, slack-jawed with awe.

"Help me up!" she cried, blowing bangs out of her face, only to hold her hand up and stop him. "Wait! Close your eyes!"

"Babe, I've already seen-…"

"Morgan!" scowling, brows arched with warning.

Rolling his eyes, before covering them with a hand, he blindly reached forward, waiting for her secured grip, before yanking her up off the floor.

Sneakily, he then peeked through his fingers, watching as she grabbed her silk robe off her now rumbled bed; enjoying the lovely bounce of her plump, rounded ass, as she marched her way towards the bathroom, where she slammed, and locked the door.

She emerged a few minutes later, with her auburn hair in two loose braids and her robe knotted tightly around her waist, to find Derek waiting expectantly. She couldn't help but to notice, how he made her furniture look so small and cramped. His strong, solid physique, paired perfectly with his demanding presence, looked out of place inside her quirky, colorful apartment.

Where Kevin had blended in, almost faded into the background of her girly lifestyle, Derek stood out like a sore thumb – all athletic, virile, alpha male, in fitted jeans, a soft, clingy, maroon shirt, and that sexy black, leather jacket; which she knew he only wore when he rode his motorcycle – just sitting there, amongst her frilly, floral throw pillows on her purple, Victorian couch.

Crossing her arms, when her nipples puckered with awareness, and slick heat pooled between her thighs – needing to take a deep, calming breath.

"Look, Sweetness," he started. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about the fight earlier. I didn't mean for it to get out of hand."

"You broke his nose."

"He insulted you!"

"He has two black eyes!" she harshly bit back. She was the one who cheated, not Kevin. And her sensitive, worried heart, felt that he didn't deserve that.

"Nuh uh," shaking his head. "Don't pin this all on me. You know damn well I was not gonna sit back and let him run his mouth."

"We all got suspended," she added, brow arched with indignation. "For two weeks. With no pay."

"Garcia," he started.

"Angelfish," cutting him off, as she plopped down onto her paisley ottoman. "I appreciate you being my knight in shining armor, but…I'm the one that ruined my relationship. Not him," nibbling on her quivering bottom lip. "It's my fault," she whispered, voice cracking, as she remembered how her dirty laundry had been aired out, in front of all of her coworkers. Feeling her cheeks flush, she dropped her troubled gaze, to stare at her chipped painted toes.

"Baby, please don't cry," frowning; scooting towards the edge of the couch, to get closer to her.

"I-I'm not," she sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

"I'm sorry," his voice was soft, deliciously smooth, and sincere.

She looked back up at him "I know."

The silence that surrounded them, as he watched her fidget nervously in front of him, was rare and slightly awkward.

"Do you…want me to leave?" breaking the tension, rolling the dice.

A long, intense moment passed between them, before she smiled, shook her head, and then reached for his hand.

To be continued…


	7. VII

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! And special shout out, to my lovely Guest Reviewers, I see you and appreciate you! Also, for those of you who read my other stories, thank you for your patience, and have no fear, all of my stories will be updated and finished! (I just need to figure out how to clone myself and/or write faster ;)  
**

 **Story Warnings: Sexual Situations and Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter: VII

He lifted the heavy weight, high above his head – holding it there, gritting his teeth, as the burning ache tightened his muscles. Counting to ten, he took a deep breath, bent his legs and dropped the large, silver barbell, onto the rubber mat. Wiping his brow, he plopped down onto the workbench, and glared at his sweaty reflection in the mirror.

"Damn," he mumbled, grabbing his water bottle, guzzling most of it down, before throwing it at the wall in frustration.

Derek had been spending the rest of his week trying to calm down. Though his mind, was racing with emotions, and his body, was wound tight, begging for that sweet release. The painful erection he had been sporting for nearly two weeks now, ever since Penelope straddled his waist in the front seat of his SUV, and which had only intensified after having seen her buck naked, was now throbbing with a vengeance. Making it hard to walk, and too difficult to focus on anything other than sinking into the slick, warmth between her thick, creamy thighs

He had been knocked stupid over a week ago. Forgetting how to breath, as all of his blood fled his brain and pooled south beneath his belt. No matter what he did; jerking off in a cold shower – where he had unfortunately discovered that he was unable to finish, because his body wanted her, needed her, to quench the fire that had been stroked within him – or if it was working out in his basement, in the middle of the night, until his body was soaking with sweat, and muscles screaming with exhaustion. He had tried all of his tricks, but no matter what he did, he just couldn't shake the image from his mind, of Penelope standing there, completely, breathtakingly bare.

Derek had always known that they were going to get together. There was absolutely, no doubt about it. It was just a question, of when. He had already fallen in love with her intellect and kindness. She was the soothing balm for his soul, that of which he had spent over twenty years searching for, but, he was still a man. A man, who was not immune to Garcia's strikingly luscious femininity.

Oh, he had, since the first day they met, fantasized daily, about the body she was hiding underneath all of those lovely, form-fitting dresses. He knew she was going to be extraordinary, he however, was not prepared for the sheer fervor that had struck him.

Penelope, his sweet, beautiful Baby Girl, was the epitome of buxom, with those full, perky tits and the prettiest pink nipples, he had ever laid eyes on. Then, there was a dip to her waist, that flared out to those rounded hips. A perfect hourglass figure, that was begging his fingers to sink into, as he thrust deeply inside of her. Closing his eyes, trying to calm his breathing, only for that teasing patch of dark, trimmed curls, at the apex of her thighs, to flash in his mind.

"Fuck," he growled.

She was all ripe, succulent curves, that deserved to be worshiped. And he, was a mere mortal, waiting patiently at her altar.

 _Damn boy, you got it bad!_

Hissing in a sharp breath, he stood back up, and dragged his sore, tired body over towards the treadmill. Setting the incline and resistance, to a number that had his face scrunched up in agony, as he powered through another excruciating exercise.

Though, like the last two hours had previously proven, it just wouldn't work.

* * *

_ _Flashback: Penelope's Apartment_ _

His fingers glided over the slippery silk of her cherry blossom kimono, which was clinging enticingly to her damp skin. Rubbing up and down her back, soothing her heart-wrenching sobs, as the gravity of her break-up finally hit her.

"Shh, I got you, Angel," he cooed, softly into the crook of her neck, gently swaying her back and forth.

They had been standing in her living room for a while now. The moment she had reached out for him, he had stood up, eager and ready to continue where they had left off that night at the diner, only for her face to crumple, as she collapsed in his arms. He immediately felt contrite, mentally face palming himself for thinking with his dick, when his best friend was obviously, still very distraught.

"I-I…didn't m-mean…" she hiccuped, clinging to him just a little tighter.

"I know, Baby, I know," holding the back of her head against him, as his other arm wrapped securely around her waist.

He gave her temple a sweet, reassuring kiss, only to catch a hint of her shampoo. That peachy jasmine, which was familiar and comforting, and so distinctly Penelope. He awkwardly shifted, feeling the stirrings of arousal from their close proximity.

She sniffled loudly, nimbly wiping away her tears on his maroon shirt. "A-And he's…m-mad…at me."

"Well, considering I stole his girl…" smirking, when she went stiff in his arms. "I think he's more pissed off at me."

"You," she squeaked out, eyes wide like saucers. "Stole me?"

"Mmhmm," rubbing his hand across her lower back, teasing the top curve of her ass.

"How? When?" leaning back, starring up at him with that innate curiosity.

"From the moment I first laid eyes on you," his voice was dark, and unflinching.

" _Ooh_ , my Chocolate _Adoniiis_ ," words slightly slurred, as she patted his shoulder. "You are many, _maaany_ uberly wonderful things, but cheesy, is _nooot_ one of them."

His large hand immediately dropped to her ass; grabbing, the soft, plump flesh, and firmly pressing her against him – letting her feel the rigid bulge constricted beneath denim.

A rosy hue bloomed across her cheeks, mouth falling open, as she gasped.

"I wasn't joking," he rasped out.

"Hot _Stuuuff_ ," she giggled with shocked disbelief, as her eyes nervously glanced around the room.

"Don't."

"What?"

"Don't do that," narrowing his heated gaze at her, lowering the hand, which had been resting on her neck, to cup her chin – forcing her to look up at him. "Don't laugh this off, because you're scared. Or because that beautiful mind of yours is making you think that I'm lying to you."

"What?" she dumbly repeated.

He smiled.

And she, frowned.

"Derek!" she huffed, stomping her bare foot.

"Hmm?" lowering his hand to her thigh, where he slowly started to bunch the smooth silk, raising it higher, and higher.

"What are you doing?"

"Comforting you."

"I mean-…," her breath hitched, when he gripped the cloth around her hips and the cool air of the apartment trailed over her bare skin.

"What I should have done a long time ago," the deep timbre of his voice rumbled beneath her fingers, which were resting on his chest.

Rapidly blinking away the fresh tears that now brimmed her lashes, she sniffled, nibbling thoughtfully on her bottom lip, only to quirk her brows and moan when his fingers began to possessively squeeze her ass.

"H-Hot S-Stuff," she panted, licking her lips – ignoring the significance of his words. "You know this Goddess…can't focus…when you start to do…those deliciously, naughty things."

His smirk grew, and his eyes flashed dangerously. "That's why I'm doing it."

"Oh," she swallowed, but then his sneaky, deft fingers, parted her cheeks, exposing the wet heat between her thighs, making her greedily arch against him. "It's just…" her mind became loopy, as that sensuous warmth unfurled within her – tingling her limbs and sending shivers down her spine – it was a betrayal that had her mouth eagerly peppering sloppy kisses along his jaw. "I shouldn't…I can't…"

Firmly grabbing the center of her ass, his hand lowered until he could play with her swollen slit – swirling the slickness at her entrance; enjoying her breathless gasps and the arousal that glazed over her eyes – only to plunge one long finger, inside of her. It was a masterful stroke that made her yip in surprise. Her hands shot up around his neck, as she practically climbed up his body, only to slip against the smooth leather of his jacket, forcing her body further down, onto his invasive hand.

Her whimpers turned into deep, throaty groans. Hazel eyes shooting wide open, when he grabbed her thigh and lifted it around his waist, as he added another finger inside of her.

"Oooh shit," she cried, squirming in his arms – searching for control.

"Shh, Baby," he smirked, slowly scissoring his fingers.

That was all it took. A shock wave of pleasure, that was suddenly too much, and yet, not enough.

"Wrap your legs around me," his dominance that she secretly loved, laced each and every word, and she easily, readily complied.

Balancing on her tippy toes, she was just about to jump up, when she froze – suddenly aware, fighting those traitorous insecurities. Immediately sensing the shift in her, he clucked his tongue and narrowed his gaze.

"Oh, no you don't" he growled. "Hold on."

He barely gave her time to register what he meant, before lifting her high above his shoulders, like some caveman taking his women. Her hands shot out, flailing for a second, before seeking purchase on his back, tightly clutching his clothes, as her legs wrapped around his chest, and her ankles locked securely behind him.

"Derek!" she shrieked. "Put me down!" starting to get dizzy – regretting the wine she had guzzled down earlier.

"No."

"You're gonna hurt your back!" she hissed sharply, only to gasp at the swift, smack across her bare ass. "Oh!"

"Hush, woman," he chuckled, and she could just imagine that smug, Cheshire grin.

"Look here, Mister!" she huffed, her independent streak shining through. "I don't know who you think you are, but-…" one strong arm wrapped tightly over her waist, as his other hand cupped her soaking center – immediately stopping her tirade. "Umm, you…y-you…need to s-stop that," she panted, eyes drifting closed, as his fingers sunk back into her.

"Stop what?" playing coy, only to do a ' _come hither_ ' motion that had her buck against him.

"T-that!" she yelped.

The fact that he was bracing all of her weight, and still expertly able to tease her, without breaking a sweat, hadn't slipped her mind, and it was making it that much more difficult to resist him. She wasn't a prude, far from it, and had had her fair share of lovers throughout her life – not as many as Morgan, though she refused to dwell on that fact. However, none of them had lifted her up with such possessive ease.

It was hot as hell, and she felt positively naughty.

"This?" slowly slipping out of her, as his fingers teased her lips, and then pinched her sensitive nerve.

"Yeees!" she whined, dropping her head to rest on her arm.

He slowly circled her clit, creating a perfect rhythm, that had her teetering on the edge of pleasurable pain, and just as she was getting ready to climb that sensuous peak, he stopped.

"No…nooo! Back!" she pouted, wiggling her hips, only to feel the room spin, as he started to move.

Frowning at the back of his beautiful, bald head, she was just about to complain, when she screeched.

"The window!" smacking his shoulder.

"What? Ow! Stop that," lowering her squirming body, so her legs were wrapped around his waist, and she was now face-to-face with him.

"It's open," she breathed out, only to catch sight of his soft, full lips, which she knew could give the most delectable of kisses.

"I can see that," starring longingly at the expanse of bare, milky white skin in front of him.

Her silk kimono had slipped open, one side was falling off her shoulder, exposing an indecent amount of cleavage, and the rounded curve of her breast.

"Fuck," he growled, stumbling forward, and slamming her ass down onto the edge of the counter top.

He lowered his head, licking the smooth column of her neck, nibbling, sucking, slowly going lower and lower, kissing the top swells of her ample bosom.

"Damn, Garcia. Fuck," he hummed, completely distracted.

"A-Angelfish," one hand coming to rest on his neck, holding him closer, while her other hand fell to his shoulder, and pushed him away. "That feels good," she smiled, rolling her eyes, when all he did was mumble in approval. "B-But," arching into him, when his hand grabbed her tit, kneading the soft flesh in his large palm. "But people can see inside!" she sharply hissed.

His other hand yanked on the sash that was holding the fabric together, and he locked eyes with hers. "Well, Princess, we better make it a good show then," the kimono billowed open, and he dropped his dark gaze and shucked in a breath. "Well look at you, Hot Stuff," smirking, as he trailed a hand up her side, tracing the soft skin right beneath her breast.

She instantly spread her legs wider, letting him stand fully between her thighs, making his impressive bulge press enticingly into her slick intimate folds. He leaned forward, capturing her lips with that kiss she had desperately been craving all week. Her head slammed back into the cabinet door, and she whimpered, opening her mouth – letting him plunder and take what he wanted.

It was a rough, teeth clattering, lip biting, tongue dueling kind of kiss, and she loved every spine tingling minute of it.

Raising his hands higher, he was getting ready to hold those large tits he had been dreaming about all these years, when a loud annoying ring interrupted his movement. She froze, breaking away from him to catch her breath, while ignoring the feeling of his own hot breath washing over her overheated skin.

Her yellow princess phone, with the rotary dial in the middle console, kept ringing, until it clicked on to her answering machine.

" _Hey, Penny Pie! It's Mallory_!" a chirpy, feminine voice filtered through the tension filled apartment. " _You haven't responded to any of my emails or texts_!"

"Oh, shit!" Penelope groaned, pushing frantically against Derek. "Move, move, move!"

" _It's getting late, and we still need to get you to the salon. Ah, I'm so excited!"_ Mallory giggled, and there was even hand clapping on the other end. _"John has the perfect style picked out. But he kinda, sorta, changed his mind last minute though! Hope you don't mind."_

Derek growled, stepping away from her, as he slumped against the fridge. Nostrils flaring, as he narrowed his gaze, at the phone across the room.

" _Oh, also, we have another costume fitting tonight. We just got your corset back. It's stunning! But I might need to make a few adjustments_ ," smacking on her gum, only to blow a quick bubble and pop it. " _Oh-oh! And rehearsal tonight got pushed up an hour, because John wants to change part of the choreo-…"_

Penelope grabbed the phone, fumbling with it, before answering it out of breath.

"Mal!" she wheezed, fanning her cheeks, as she stared nervously over at Derek. "Uh-huh? Yeah, yeah. No, that's totally fine!" absently nodding her head, discreetly looking away as he adjusted his pants. "I'm so sorry, something um…came up!" blushing at the innuendo, and Derek's grunt of agitation. "I'll be there as soon as I can!"

She hung up the phone, and took a few deep, calming breaths, only to shiver. Looking down, she squealed, quickly tying her open garment into a tight knot. Brushing the bangs out her face, finally feeling a semblance of sanity, she turned back around, only to slam into a solid chest wall.

"Oomph," staring up at him, gauging his stern expression.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"We were making out!" she countered.

He rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms.

"Whose Mallory?" giving her a look that he would often use on UnSubs.

"You kissed me. A-And I kissed you back!" she rambled; eyes wide, as she fiddled with her trembling hands. "I just broke up with Kevin! And I was practically humping you in the middle of my living room. With all the lights on!" she cried, face turning an embarrassed shade of scarlet.

"Garcia," lowering his voice, sensing her mini panic attack – once again feeling like an ass for not controlling his urges, when he was around her.

"No. NO!" shaking her head, stepping back. "I'm the worst person in the whole wide world!" sniffling as a new batch of tears welled up in her eyes.

He chuckled, and she glared.

"Hey now, calm down," reaching out for her, only for her to childishly bat his hands away.

"Calm. Down?" she spoke slowly, one manicured brow arching, as her lips pursed into a thin, straight line.

 _Uh-oh!_

"Calm down!" she repeated, pacing between her ottoman and cluttered coffee table. "I am calm. Why wouldn't I be calm?" throwing her hands up in the air. "Probably because my boyfriend dumped my selfish ass! And it took me less than-what? Ten hours to go crawling back to you!" wiping at her cheeks, unable to stop the wet streaks from marring her face – Kevin's hurtful words slamming into her like a freight train, and mix that with her intoxicated lull and the lingering effects of her pleasure induced haze, and she was finding herself struggling to not have a complete breakdown.

"Baby Girl," Derek spoke up, grabbing her arm when she got close enough, and tugging her back against him.

She squirmed, fingers digging into his wrists. "No! Now I'm gonna be late tonight. And everyone's depending on me! I mean the show opens next weekend, and-…" she gasped, freezing her wild movements.

"You're in a show?" smiling, he had almost forgotten about that. Almost.

"I might have, um…" she looked up at him, wrinkling her nose cutely. "Done a…thing."

"A thing?"

"Mmhmm."

"Do I get a ticket, to this…thing?"

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen, my sexy Sugar Shack," wiggling out of his grasp, as she quickly scrambled to her room, wiping at her face the whole way.

"Oh, come on Garcia," plopping down onto the couch – totally aware that she was avoiding the big elephant in the room. But he knew his girl, and knew how flustered change made her, so he went along with it – giving her time to freak out. "You were great in the last play. The team loved it."

Drawers were quickly opened and slammed shut, and he heard the distinct snap of elastic – unable to stop his mind from drifting to what would surely be a spectacular collection of lingerie. Beaming happily to himself, only to sigh when his dick throbbed against his tight jeans. Shifting on the sofa, clutching a striped throw pillow, he put his attention on trying to tamp down his arousal.

Popping her head around the door frame, as she bounced on one foot, while rolling up a sexy black stocking. "You can't go!" giving him a pointed glare, before disappearing again.

"Fuckin' hell," he muttered, nostrils flaring as he clamped his eyes shut. "Why not?" voice strained, as he frowned in confusion.

Emerging, now wearing a flouncing floral skirt and soft pink blouse, she walked towards her computer desk and picked up a pretty, purple stiletto, then whirled around a few times in search of its twin.

"I'm sorry, Angelfish," avoiding his narrowed gaze. "But, you just can't go. And please, _please_ …" giving him a pleading look. "Don't tell the team."

"I won't."

She arched a brow, chin jutting out in defiance.

"Promise," he added, waggling his pinky in the air.

She huffed, marching towards him – squeezing past the cramped space between his long legs and the coffee table, only to bend over and grab her high heel, that had snuck it's way underneath the sofa. Quickly, shoving them onto her feet, she was getting ready to head back to her room, needing to fix her hair and makeup, when he grabbed her hand and stilled her movements.

"What about me?" he whispered; a hint of uncertainty wavering his voice – making the frigid barrier around her heart pulse with yearning. "I know you're the lead. That's great! I wanna see you, Baby."

"Derek," dropping her head, blinking back those tears that seemed to be haunting her all day. She was recently heartbroken, while also dealing with realizing that she had been madly in love with her best friend, the whole damn time. It was all so confusing, and she simply, just needed time. "It's a _different_ type of show," she stated firmly, wanting to leave – feeling claustrophobic.

"So what?"

"Just no!"

Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to go, Morgan!" she screamed, nibbling on her lip – hating her bristling demeanor, not wanting to hurt him.

"Oh, okay," voice harsh, losing all pretense, as he sat forward, tugging on her arm, forcing her to look at him. "You can ride me in my car, and let me finger fuck you all afternoon. Then act like what we have…what we've always have had, means nothing to you?"

Her mouth flapped open, and her face lost all color.

Though he pressed on anyway. "What, I'm not good enough for you to love. But now that Lynch is gone, I can be your fuck buddy!?"

That quick, searing slap, left a faint red mark across his cheek, but the pain in her eyes – of complete, utter devastation, left a far bitter sting.

"Get. Out," choking on a sob, as she yanked her arm out of his strong grip, and pointed towards the door.

Standing up, reaching for her – trying to back pedal. "Sweetie, no…fuck. I'm sorry, that's not what-…"

"Don't," holding her hand up to stop him. "Just go. Please," sniffling, wiping a fat tear that had slipped down her cheek and gathered on her quivering chin. Staring at the wall behind him. "I need to get ready. I'm already late."

"Baby, come on..." feeling his heart shatter into a million pieces in his struggling grasp. "Penelope," he whispered, frozen to the spot, as he stood there, watching her storm past him and slam the bathroom door shut.

_ _End of Flashback_ _

* * *

Losing his focus, he stumbled over his feet and slammed into the console. Quickly stopping the treadmill, he ripped off his soaked tank top – wiping at his face and neck, before tossing it over his shoulder.

Checking his wrist watch, he frowned. It was barely Ten o'clock, which did not bode well for his insomnia.

Trudging his way back up the staircase to his bedroom, fully intent on taking a piping hot shower to ease his tender muscles, only to sit down on his disheveled bed in defeat.

He had called and texted Garcia several times this week, and each and every one of them had gone unanswered. Hell, he had even showed up again at her apartment, though she wasn't home. He had a sneaking suspicion that she was taking shelter at JJ's, which was concluded by the communication liaison's evasive answers. Though it wasn't until Prentiss messaged him, letting him know that Garcia was fine, and to just give her some space, that he had finally stopped calling everyone. She was clearly seeking the comfort that only girl time and a bubbly Godson could offer.

Derek just couldn't shake off that sad look of hers. It had gnawed at his heart strings ever since he left her, even as his ego dawdled with the fact that he had made a valid point. Though admittedly it had been crass, too harsh for her sensitive soul to handle.

He knew that, and had let his emotions get the best of him anyway. He had been horny, and had acted stupid. It was messing with his mind, and had turned him into an ass.

Years of feeling like he wasn't good enough, that he wasn't worthy enough of her love and affection, had boiled over, when she had started to shut him out. He had panicked, became a little too clingy, and now, he had ruined possibly his last chance to be with the woman of his dreams.

Rubbing his head, squeezing the knotted tension from his neck, he glanced up and then froze.

The glossy postcard, taped to his full length mirror, with Penelope's curvy legs wrapped in those teetering, _come fuck me_ heels, had that heavy chasm that had wrapped around his chest break open with relief.

 **Opening Night: Friday the 17** **th** **.** It read in giant, red cursive.

That date was tomorrow.

His Baby Girl may not want to talk to him, and she certainly didn't want him to go to her show.

But he was a man in love – foolishly, irrevocably in love.

So, he was going to do the right thing, and get a ticket to that show. She couldn't run away then. No, she would have to talk to him, or at the very least, hear him out. Either way, he was ready to do whatever it took to win her back.

His mind was set on it. His heart, however, hoped that it wasn't too late.

To be continued…


	8. VIII

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! And special shout out, to my lovely Guest Reviewers, I see you and appreciate you!  
**

 **Story Warnings: Sexual Situations and Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter: VIII

 _ **Sold Out!**_

The mocking words flashed across his computer screen. Jabbing his finger on the mouse, he clicked refresh once more, and again, and again, only to let out a string of expletives, when the same message kept popping up.

Every single show that weekend, and the six weekends after that, were completely, totally booked. How he had missed a chance to get a ticket, to what was apparently the hottest show at the **Très Jolies Dames le Cabaret** in downtown Richmond, was beyond him.

Well, to be fair, his mind had been occupied with his favorite curvaceous red head, and the nearly obscene, mouthwatering kisses they had been exchanging. Granted, it had only happened twice, but it was enough to mess with his psyche – throwing him off his game, and allowing him to forget to order tickets for Garcia's show.

"Sonuva bitch," he mumbled, harshly tapping his fingers against the opulent mahogany desk, as he slumped down into the swivel chair.

Morgan had never owned a computer desk before, but his tech-savvy best friend, had insisted that every house, including his macho man bachelor pad, needed a home for all things technological. So, she had forced him to go shopping, and had spent the rest of that sunny, Saturday afternoon, setting up his desktop and internet.

He clearly remembered grumbling most of that morning away, having wanted to spend the day cooped up inside with her. Snuggling up on his luxurious leather couch, with its recliners, cup holders, and speakers in the cushions – hell, his whole entertainment center was his pride and joy – to watch movies, while she fed him bits of buttery popcorn and Twizzlers. Though, he had to admit, the desk fit perfectly in his living room, and had made using the computer a whole lot easier.

Refreshing the website once more, his fond memory soon faded into utter disappointment. He couldn't speak to Penelope, and tell her that he was sorry, if he couldn't even see her. Usually if he was in the doghouse with his Goddess, he would bring her favorite latte and pastry, trap her in her office and apologize – that was of course, when they were working and he knew for a fact he was going to see her the next day.

However, this two-week suspension, which if he was being completely honest, he had thought was going to be spent having incredibly hot, _I've-waited-almost-five-years_ , life changing sex, with the woman of his dreams. Derek was ready to tear up his sheets, and fulfill every sweet and lovely, to downright filthy fantasy that starred his beautiful Baby Girl.

But no, he had only gotten a teasing glimpse of what it would feel like to be with her, and it had felt absolutely right. It was exactly what he knew it would be. Like he had followed that beacon into the most tumultuous of storms and had discovered home within her arms. It was perfect. And then it was swept out from underneath him, and his aching heart missed it terribly.

He sniffed loudly, causing his pup, Clooney, to tilt his head up at him from his favorite spot at his owner's feet. Quickly wiping his shockingly damp cheek with the back of his hand, he frowned. Had Derek Morgan just shed a tear? And yes, it was just one, single, solitary tear – he was too proud of a man to admit to anything more than that – but, good God, he was acting like a wimp, like some hormonal teenage girl who just got dumped.

To top it all off, his emotions had been all over the place this week. He was crabby, short tempered, had lost his large appetite, and for being the athletic, workout fiend, that he was, he had barely found the energy to leave his bed. A repulsive shudder shot down his spine, and he shook off the silly thoughts, only to be knocked cold with the realization of what it all meant.

That he, not only loved his best friend, he was without a doubt, irrevocably in love with, Penelope Garcia.

So, it was a damn good thing that he wasn't a quitter. Never had been, never would be. And he wasn't going to sit there and wallow in self-pity. He was going to be the go-getter his Momma raised him to be, and he was going to do something about it.

Rubbing his rambunctious pup's ears. "I got it bad, don't I boy?" his dog yipped, and excitedly wagged his tail. "What'cha say…hmm, you want a Mommy? Yeah, you do! You do, don't ya?" Clooney, excitedly danced in a circle, as he stared up at his owner with those warm, chocolate eyes and barked.

Feeling encouraged, he scrolled meticulously through the site, trying to see if there were any other options for those who were lovesick and desperate. Hell, if he had to, he would flash his badge, and proclaim that the show was research for a top secret case. That national security was on the line, and he needed a seat – preferably in the back row so he could get a good eyeful, but still be inconspicuous and-…hey, maybe that just might work.

Taking a moment to contemplate his brilliant, albeit slightly absurd scheming plan, only for Garcia's sparkling neon nail to flash in his mind, as she sternly pointed at him, with her arched brow and pursed lips, before he nixed the idea entirely. No, she would certainly not appreciate him embarrassing her, in front of all of her theater friends.

Mumbling to himself, as he reached the bottom of the events page, only to spot a link that he had missed before. Clicking on it, he quickly read through the small font, and he could have whooped with joy. Hell, if he had a football he would have spiked it!

A wide, bright smile crossed his face.

 _Bingo!_

* * *

Pursing her lips, she slowly rubbed them together, before releasing them with a smacking ' _pop_ '. Turning her head side-to-side, scrutinizing the fine details of her makeup in the luminous vanity mirror, she was just about to pick up her mascara wand, only to startle when the dressing room door burst open.

"Okay, I fixed the snagged ribbon," Mallory's exuberant chatter filled the cramped space. "Which tightened the boning on the back. So, it's gonna be a bit snug, but your bad boys…or is it girls?" giggling to herself, as she glanced at the other woman's chest. "Anyways, those tatas aren't escaping my finely crafted corset," proudly holding it up underneath the warm lights.

Penelope twisted around on her stool, and gasped. "Oh, Mal!" grinning from ear-to-ear, as she reached out to touch the shiny satin and lace. "It's beautiful!"

The oxblood and black, brocade patterned corset bustier was simply stunning. It had black leather piping, and three black silk bows – two on the bottom, which would rest enticingly on top of her thighs, and one giant one in the center of the sweetheart neckline. Then there was a large black ribbon that crisscrossed beautifully in the back, though it was the silver clasps going down the front that held it all together.

Penelope owned her fair share of tastefully naughty lingerie, but they were all hanging in the back of her closet – untouched and unworn, collecting dust, for over a year. Kevin wasn't a big fan of the fitted fabric, having told her it accentuated her curves too much, making her look bulky. He preferred these ugly flower printed nighties, that were cotton and knee length. They were something a sweet old Granny would wear, while she knitted a blanket, surrounded by her 17 cats. They were downright hideous and definitely not Penelope.

Oh, but this corset, with its lush fabric and stunning colors, was strikingly evocative and exactly what she had been itching to wear for months. It was something that should only be worn in the bedroom between lovers, and Penelope was a few hours away from shimmying suggestively across the stage with it.

A tendril of nervous excitement shot down her spine, and she swallowed heavily.

 _What had she gotten herself into?_

What had started off as bitter hate for the spunk that had fizzled from her life, had quickly turned into gnawing hunger; a fierce craving, for that feeling of unbridled sensuality. It was like she had been wearing lackluster colored glasses for months, and they had sucked the pizzazz out of everything.

So, she had turned to one of her biggest passions, theater. She had delved completely into this show, hoping to spark that interest again, with the man that she had chosen to make a life with these last two years. She had spent weeks rehearsing, working furiously on boosting her self-esteem, since her shield of confidence had been badly dented.

And this lovely corset was certainly going to help solve all of that. She couldn't wait to try it on and show it off and-…she frowned. She had foolishly forgotten that she was single now. And no one in the audience was going to be taking her home and ravishing her tonight.

Her tender heart seized, and she pouted – quickly blinking the tears away, as her fingers slowly glided over the corset. She had lost a boyfriend, well, if she were honest with herself, then she had to admit that their relationship was over long ago. It was the main reason why she had auditioned for such a provocative role to begin with – wanting to find the heat that had not only disappeared from her relationship, but from her life as well.

For there was nothing worse than for her normally vibrant self to feel undesirable, but she did. Penelope ' _Tech Goddess'_ Garcia felt old, frumpy and miserably drab. It also didn't help that she had become aware of how lukewarm her sex life with Kevin was. One, no- scratch that, two sizzling make out sessions, that involved heavy petting and one spine-tingling, toe-curling orgasm – and heck, that was with all of their clothes still on – with her best friend, had unraveled the truth that she had been hopelessly trying to ignore.

That she, had grown rather bored with Kevin in the bedroom – _no, Garcie, you've always been bored with him._ She gulped, and glanced down at her feet. What had started out as a cute, friendly spark, had slowly faded into bland ol' missionary. Not that there was anything wrong with that position, she was actually quite fond of it, well, at least she used to be. But recently her body was begging for something more – some surprise, an inkling of romance, hell, just even spicing up the foreplay would fire up all cylinders and get her engines revving again.

Though sadly, Kevin, just wasn't doing it for her anymore. Truthfully, he had never gotten her off, and the guilt of faking her orgasms had started to chip away at her conscience. Then the once-a-week sex stopped, but when it turned into a five-month dry spell, she had thought it was a fluke. At first she was worried, then she became agitated, and now her body was tingling with so much pent up frustration, that she was just about ready to short circuit and snap.

Hell, Derek had only kissed her and she had shattered; quaking with waves of ecstasy in his arms- NO! – this had nothing to do with her Hot Stuff. Nope. This breakup was bound to happen. She had been contemplating it for weeks.

Until, Kevin stole her thunder, and made her look like a selfish floozy who had broken his heart. Okay, maybe she was being overly dramatic and slightly petty, because she was still a bit miffed from being embarrassed at work. Not only had she lost a decent boyfriend, but she had probably, most likely, destroyed the best relationship she had ever had, with her beloved, Chocolate Adonis.

Here she was, just a few, short months' shy of 35, and she didn't want to spend it feeling like a limp dishrag. That thought, only made her feel more like a heel, especially when her life wasn't so bad to begin with. She had no right to complain. She should feel lucky, right?

Kevin wasn't so bad…

He was sweet – when he remembered, and quite simple and very nice. He ' _fangirled_ ' over the same nerdy tech stuff that she did. He was nice, and didn't tell her what to do. He also didn't open doors or hold her hand in public, respecting her fierce independence; giving her a ton of space and freedom – so much so, that she often wondered if she even had a boyfriend. He never raised his voice, and he hardly ever disagreed. He was very compromising – there wasn't one single controlling bone in his body. If they had plans for dinner, she always made them, only getting a simple shrug of agreement from him in return.

Yes, Kevin Lynch, was simplistic, very timid, often aloof, and… _nice_.

It was exactly what her little, independent heart had always dreamt about in a boyfriend. Someone who would complement her stubborn determination, and not challenge it. She needed Zen, good balance, and he had been the perfect candidate.

Not that it really mattered much now anyway, since he had dumped her, and then spitefully threw it back in her face at work. In front of Derek and her team, and many other shocked agents – who had stood around intrigued, only to scatter at Hotch's booming voice.

Okay, so, maybe he wasn't the nicest guy in town, though considering every nerve in her body screamed for Derek, and the fact that she wasn't the least bit guilty about it, probably gave Kevin the right to be rather vocal about his suffering.

Sniffling, hating how she had spent the last few months, scrambling to prove that her _safe choice_ had been worth it, only for it to all blow up in her face. She had plastered on a fake smile, and pointedly exaggerated how wonderful he was. It was rough. And she had become bitter, especially after having to watch her sexy-as-sin, tall, dark and oh-so-handsome best friend, flaunt his sexy flings, with their mile-long legs, reed-thin waists and little, perky tits, around week after week.

Those women were everything that Penelope was not. And that thought alone, fed that criticizing inner voice.

Rolling her eyes, the man was incorrigible. Derek was everything she didn't want in a relationship. Goodness, the fact that he wasn't even able to maintain a relationship longer than a few months – and not because he couldn't, but because he chose not to – was her biggest warning sign. A strike against him. He was a charming player, who was gifted in flirtatious wooing. He loved the ladies, and many, many ladies, loved him.

He was dominant – had the ability to command the attention of an entire room, by just entering it. He voiced his opinion, sometimes disagreeing with her, but always respectfully. He challenged her. Always raising the stakes of their borderline inappropriate banter, until one of them blushed and bowed out.

He opened doors, and held her hand. Never shying away from affectionately kissing her, touching her – just simply being near her. He was a natural born leader, but he walked with her, guiding her, protecting her. They had never dated, and yet, he was undeniably more devoted to her than any man she had ever been with.

She shucked in a deep breath. How had she never seen it before? He was there, right in front of her, this whole time. She really needed to get her glasses checked!

Penelope's knight in shining armor, with his captivating charisma, that was oh so scrumptiously mesmerizing, was her Hot Stuff in disguise.

His handsome face flashed in her mind. He was smiling, that warm, toothy grin she loved so much, with that cute dimple he got, when his eyes became squinty, and he had a big ol' belly laugh. She loved that little dimple. He rarely showed it. But she got to see it, quite often, when he was truly having fun, and…oh, my God!

 _Oh, Garcia, girl, you have got it bad!_

Derek was absolutely everything she wanted in, not only a man, but a friend, and lover. Oh, and his sexy act in her living room, proved that he would be a demanding force in her bedroom.

Licking her lips, imagining all six-foot-one of delicious abs and hot, brooding strength. There was no doubt in her mind that Morgan wanted to fuck her, had always wanted to fuck her. And she knew that now; had spent this whole last week, cowardly hiding out, as she tried to wrap her mind around that naughty, little fact, only to come to the conclusion that she desperately wanted him to fuck her – many, many, _many_ …many times.

Her legs quivered at the thought of him pinning her face down and roughly taking her from behind, or as he pressed all of his weight above her – grinding his slim, fit pelvis into her – making her spread her legs wider and accept all of him, or as she sat atop of him, undulating her hips with total surrender.

She nearly salivated at the gloriously smutty visions. Then her nipples puckered, as slick heat pooled between her thighs, and she quickly clamped her legs shut.

 _Pull yourself together!_

She was fraught with nerves – all clammy hands, queasy stomach, and chapped lips, which she couldn't stop nibbling on. She was simply a frazzled mess, that was having a difficult time focusing on anything other than Derek. They were best friends, and she knew him very well, but there was still this inkling of doubt that he wouldn't forgive her.

' **Hey, Silly Girl.** **I love you, you know that, right?** ' his deep, timbre echoed in her mind, and a silvery tear slipped down her cheek. Oh, she definitely needed to work her Oracle magic, and fix this.

A black tipped hand waved in front of her face, and she slowly blinked a few times, before looking up into big brown eyes full of concern.

"What's wrong?" her friend, who was doubling duties as costume designer and stage manager, started to frantically look the corset over. "You don't like it?"

Grabbing a water bottle, she daintily sipped it through a fun mustache bendy straw, and shook her head. "No, I love it!"

" _Okaaay_ ," Mallory hugged the pretty material, and perched herself on the edge of the vanity table. "I know that look," smiling gently. "What's got you down, Penny Pie?"

Carefully dabbing at her eyes, not wanting to smudge her intricate makeup, she somehow managed a warm smile. "Nothing."

"You know…" reaching a hand out to gently tug one of Penelope's bouncing curls. "For an amazing actress, you sure do suck at lying."

Penelope arched a delicate brow, pouted her glossed bottom lip, and haughtily twirled around in her chair – perfectly imitating a dramatic diva tantrum.

Giggling knowingly, she gently placed the corset down and crossed her arms. "Imma take it, you didn't make up with your, Mocha Thor."

Lifting her gaze in the mirror, she locked eyes with Mallory's mischievous glint. "I did so-… _not_ …make up with him, yet. I mean, well…I wanted to…but I…It's just, very, uberly complicated," blinking away the sudden onslaught of tears. "A-And I was gonna call him. I swear! I mean, well I tried to. I did…but then I deleted the text, and a really, really, oh-so-embarrassingly _looong_ , sappy email that I might have written late at night after a decadent bottle of Merlot," taking a gasping breath. "Then, I reread it, and cringed, because I was all… _Derek_ , _I_ … _love_ … _you_ ," saying each word slowly, rolling the weight of them around on her tongue.

"Wow," Mallory's brows were high, but her grin wide.

"I, love…him," Penelope whispered.

" _Sooo_ ," tapping her purple Converse, against Penelope's calf. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Penelope fiddled with the dark scarlet lipstick, wiped her eyes, and smirked. "Can you pretty, pretty please do me a big ol' favor with whip cream, delicious hot fudge and cherries on top," batting her lashes playfully, as she pouted her bottom lip.

"Well, with a face like that, how can I resist?" shaking her head, when Penelope squealed, and wiggled excitedly in her seat.

"Oh, Mal! You, my dazzling beaut, are absolutely the bestest!"

Mallory pretended to toss her hair in triumph. "You know it!" only to abruptly hold a finger up, "But first, we have to finish getting you all dolled up," picking up the corset, as Penelope's tinkling laughter filled the room.

To be continued…


	9. IX

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! And special shout out, to my lovely Guest Reviewers, I see you and appreciate you!  
**

 **Story Warnings: Sexual Situations and Coarse Language  
**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter: IX

Squinting his eyes into the fading evening sunlight, Derek glanced up at the old brick factory building, and frowned. From the outside it looked eerily decrepit, with steel glass windows, most of which were broken and poorly boarded up.

It didn't help that the nightclub was located in a seedier part of downtown. Hell, a few months ago, the BAU had worked on a brutal serial case, which had taken place only a few short blocks from here. It just didn't feel safe, and he certainly didn't like the idea of his precious Baby Girl, hanging out here late at night. He was going to be spanking that perky, little ass of hers, the next time he saw her, and he would definitely be seeing her again, real soon.

Grinding his teeth with aggravation, as he tried to make out the graffiti that littered the entire outside. Some were actually quite clever and artistic, though most looked like chicken scratch. He had half a mind to call in all reinforcements, storm the place down, guns blazing, and drag her ass home kicking and screaming.

Scanning his narrowed gaze around the crummy graveled parking lot, that was surrounded by a rickety chain link fence, he quickly checked the address on the invitation – that sexy, glossed card which he had _borrowed_ from Penelope – a few times, thinking, hoping, he had gotten it wrong, only to search the GPS on his cell, and curse. No such luck. This was the place alright.

Looking at his watch, though he only needed thirty minutes, he still had over an hour to spare. He had arrived extra early, not wanting to miss his chance to see the show.

Slamming the SUV door shut, he quickly checked his reflection in the window, and then adjusted the black belt, over his dove grey trousers, straightened his crisp, white shirt; sleeves rolled up, top buttons unfastened – exposing the firm, dark skin underneath – and made sure his shiny black dress shoes weren't scuffed and untied, before heading towards the entrance around back.

Spotting a rusty, metal door, that was guarded by a short, but bulky man, in all black, he arched a brow and slowed his steps. Nervously tapping the card against his fingertips, he took a deep breath, and walked closer.

"E-Excuse me," he embarrassingly croaked out. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Hey, man! How's it going? Is this the…um," holding the card up. "Trees Jolly Day-…" stumbling over the words, only for the man to hold up his hand, and cut him off.

"Très Jolies Dames le Cabaret," loudly saying it with a thick Brooklyn accent.

If Derek wasn't so worried about not getting in, he would have chuckled, so he bit his inner cheek and wisely remained silent. "Yeah," tossing him a wide grin. "That's the one."

The man pointed at the metal monogram letters, where the French words were elegantly scrolled over the doorway.

"Well, ya found it, Champ," snorting, only to spit on the ground a few feet away. "Ya got a ticket."

"Um, no. I…well, you see. The show is all sold out," rubbing a hand over his head. "And well, I saw online that you could put your name on a waitlist. You know, in case anyone doesn't show up. I can snag their seat."

"Hmm," the man crossed his tattoo covered arms. "Well, it is opening night of our most popular cabaret series."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I need to get in. My girl is starring in it, and I can't miss-…"

"Oh, Miss Jubilee," flashing his crooked teeth, as he grinned. "She sure is lovely to look at up there. A little spitfire too."

"Uh," Derek quirked a brow. _Who the hell was Miss Jubilee?_ "Look, man, I'm just trying to get a ticket. For tonight."

"Hmm," brushing a hand slowly through his scruffy goatee. "That's too bad. Sorry, I can't help ya out."

"Okay," wiping the sweat peppered across his brow. "Can I speak with someone who can?"

"Oh, yeah," the man hocked a loogie once more. "Box office. You need to go talk to them."

"And that is…" gritting his teeth, swiftly losing his patience.

"Out front."

"I thought this was the entrance," Derek frowned, reading the invitation once more.

"It is," shrugging his shoulders. "But the box office is out front, Buddy," only to take his time flicking invisible lint off his shirt.

"Thanks," turning back around towards the parking lot, doing his best not to roll his eyes.

Derek made his way around the building, and up the cement steps, only to come face-to-face with a small window that was closed with a metal shutter.

"Fuck," he grumbled, only to perch himself on the railing, and cross his ankles.

Clutching his cell phone tightly in his hands, he was getting ready to text Garcia – letting her know that he was outside, and that she needed to work her magic to get him in – only to remember that she wasn't speaking to him at the moment. It was like a cold bucket of ice water had been dumped over him. It was so deeply ingrained in him, to reach out to her for help, that he felt absolutely lost for a moment.

A familiar chirpy voice broke through his lapse of despair, making him quickly wipe his thumb under his nose and turn around. He was surprised to see the window open, and a woman, with short, spiky, bubblegum pink hair, with thick, lime green glasses, staring eagerly back at him.

"Hello!" she grinned. "Are you here for cabaret night?"

"Uh," sniffling, he stepped forward. "Yes! I mean…well…I need to get a ticket."

"Did you order one online?" moving the mouse around on the computer screen, as she waited for his information.

"No."

"Oh," looking back at him, as she pursed her lips. "I see. Well, I can add you to our waitlist. You'll be the first one on it."

"Great!" pressing his palms firmly on the small metal counter. "It's for Derek Morgan."

The woman stopped, leaned forward in her chair – giving him a slow perusal – before a mischievous grin masked her face. "Oh! It's _you_!"

"Yeah?" arching a brow, crossing his arms, as he stared cautiously back at her.

"She said you would show up," clapping happily to herself.

"Look," attempting to give her one of his famous disarming grins, glancing down at her name tag, he chuckled – remembering her bubbly personality from that phone message she had left Garcia. "Mallory," dripping her name with honey, and adding a little wink. "I really don't wanna miss Penelope's show tonight. I'm her best friend. And I really, really need a ticket."

" _Wooow_ ," she breathed out, brows raised to her hairline. "She sure wasn't lying about those dimples. And shoot, your teeth really are perfect," she gushed, tilting her head to the side in complete awe, only to roll away quickly out of sight, and reappear a moment later. "Okay, Mister Chocolate Thunder. Or, wait, do you prefer…Hot Stuff?" she quipped; giving him an exaggerated wink in return.

Derek blushed, and smirked – leave it to his Baby Girl to be so brazen everywhere she went – clearing his throat, crossing his arms, he leaned on the counter. "You can call me whatever, as long as I get inside," waggling his brows.

She shook her head and laughed, then held up a black ticket with pretty golden cursive. "Don't worry," waving it in the air. "You have the best seat in the house," she was just about to slide it under the slot, only to tug it back quickly before he could grab it. "There's just one more thing."

"And…what's that?"

"Make sure you stay seated," giving him a stern look. "For the special meet and greet afterwards," arching a brow when he remained quiet.

Holding up three fingers, he nodded his head. "Scouts Honor."

She snorted, then gave him the ticket. "Have fun!"

"Thanks!" turning around proudly, as he tried to make out the words on the ticket.

"And good luck," she muttered under her breath, only to wave him off, when he looked back at her.

Derek shrugged, and then made his way around the building once more. He now only had twenty minutes until show time. Looking up, briefly appreciating that the bright blue sky of late afternoon, had slowly turned into a vibrant mix of purple, pink, and orange. Shivering from the crisp breeze that only arrived in autumn, he quickened his steps and arrived at the entrance.

A small crowd was now gathered around the open metal door. Standing in the back, he scanned his always perceptive gaze down the line of people. Some were dressed to the nines in cocktail attire, and others, well…they looked like they were about to go to a slutty Halloween party.

He was suddenly feeling underdressed, or perhaps over- but before he could overthink, a loud phlegmy cough got his attention.

"Hey, you got a ticket," the man smiled, holding up a little handheld scanner and swiping it. Inspecting it closely, he smirked. "Hmm. VIP," handing it back over, he held his arm out in a grand gesture. "Welcome to a night of debauchery, at the Très Jolies Dames le Cabaret, Mr. Morgan," his voice now jovial; bright eyes twinkling with merriment.

Derek arched a brow, gave a curt nod, and took his ticket back. Taking a quick breath, he slowly walked through the doorway, only to stop abruptly, as he needed to adjust his eyes in the dark, cramped landing that lead to a long black, glittery staircase. And once they did, he gaped in shock.

 _What in the hell?_

There were two strands of white string lights spiraling down both railings, revealing mannequin legs nailed to the walls, that were wearing skimpy stockings and sexy heels. In between each curvy or straight leg, was a portrait of something erotically vulgar. They had woman dancing freely, or lounging with wistfully impish gazes, though it was the ones with them painted while engaging in a sexual act, that had Morgan blushing profusely.

Letting people pass him on the stairway, he took his time admiring the works of art. The way each brush stroke seemed to capture the orgasmic bliss and raunchy fervor of sex, was mesmerizing. He spotted a few of his favorite positions, and as he slowly made his way further down into what could only be the basement, he came across some that he had never even thought of. He smirked, and then took note, willing to persuade Garcia to try them out with him later.

Daring a glance upwards, he spotted red, hot pink, and black feathery boas hanging up above. Then there were lavishly golden French words decorating the ceiling. Years of listening to Garcia whisper those teasing words into his ear, allowed him to make out some of the naughty scroll like her favorite go-to… _Voulez-vous Coucher Avec Moi Ce Soir_.

Feeling a few people crowd behind him, he quickened his pace, only to hear the low hum of chatter and music from below. Anticipation rolled through him, and a tendril of excitement – of pure curiosity, combined with heightened sensual awareness – tightened his pants, making him swallow his parched tongue. For whatever was going on in here, Penelope was a part of it. And if this was any indication of what was to happen, he was definitely in for a night of his life.

To be continued…


	10. X

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! And special shout out, to my lovely Guest Reviewers, I see you and appreciate you! Also, I finally made a cover photo for this story! And though, this is slowly coming to an end, it's just getting started ;)  
**

 **Story Warnings: Strong Sexual Situations and Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter: X

The deep, rolling beats of drums, the vibrating chime of cymbals, and the jazzy, boisterous tunes of brass instruments flooded his ears, as he stepped onto the bottom landing, which overlooked the stage and bar. He had thought the unique décor that was in the stairway was gaudy, well it was even raunchier inside the club. Morgan smirked. He had definitely misjudged this place, for it clearly had Garcia written all over it.

It quickly became obvious that this factory was actually an old underground speakeasy. Its distinctive markings of exposed brick and reclaimed wooden walls, with dark, mahogany paneling were beautiful. And intermingled throughout the spacious basement, were embellished columns that somehow made the place feel more intimate.

There were high ceilings, which held a large iron, birdcage style chandelier, with colorful boas dangling from it, that floated above many black circular tables and part of the thrust stage. Each table had small centerpieces, which were a cute mix of red, black and shimmering peacock feathers. Littered throughout the place were those familiar mannequin legs, some spread wide open in skimpy lingerie, while others had one leg bent and the other sticking straight up. Everything was accentuated by the flickering candles in stained mason jars, that lit up the faces of its festive patrons.

Taking the last few steps down the steel spiral staircase, he shimmied his way through a pack of tightly bunched people, and made his way towards the bar.

It was reminiscent of the Roaring Twenties, and compared to the rest of the nightclub, the bar was the epitome of aged luxury, with a modern flare. Wooden crates lined the back wall, as white icicle lights dangled over the antique brown and green liquor bottles. Plopping down onto a vacant espresso cushioned bar stool, Derek pulled out his wallet and eyed the chalkboard sign.

Mulling over the list of eclectic drinks, he was going to ask what exactly was in a _Sunrise Swindler_ , when a man with dark glittery eye shadow, wearing a black vest and matching bowler hat, caught his gaze. "What can I get ya, sir?" shouting over the increased noise, as he expertly handled the cocktail shaker.

Arching a brow, blinking a few times. "Uh, hey…" tossing some dollar bills onto the glossy, cherry wood countertop, he settled for something familiar. "Two Old Fashions, please!"

"Ah! Such a strong drink for such a _strong_ man," he cooed, slowly pulling an olive off of a toothpick, he gave Derek a flirtatious wink, before heading down to the end of the bar.

Shaking his head, though there was no denying the amused smirk upon his face, he swiveled around to check out the rest of the nightclub.

There was a lush, velvet curtain covering the stage, which had shadows of dancing women projected onto it. Tucked away in the corner, was an alcove with deep plum and ruby wine satin drapes billowing magically around a grand piano, that had rose petals sprinkled across the top.

Glancing across the club was a sea of tables and lavish chaise lounges in various sizes, that could be moved out of the way to create a larger dance space, and which perfectly matched the black, burgundy, and gold theme. Musicians; all men, who wore similar costumes like the bartenders, were stationed all over the place. Some sat on the bar top, others on the edge of the stage, and a few stood proudly on the tables playing their brassy show tunes.

Turning back around, just as a lowball glass, with an orange peel garnish, was placed in front of him.

The bartender gave him a saucy grin, before dropping a bright maraschino cherry into his drink and then cheekily popping one into his mouth. "Enjoy!"

Derek hoped the alcohol would help get him through this night. Taking a huge swig, and then another, he relished the bitingly sweet, citrus blend.

"Oh, mon cher," a rough, feminine voice, purred to his left. "I would just love to tie you up, and show you a good ol' time."

Derek choked on his drink. Sputtering, he looked for a napkin, only for the older woman, with her big hair and cakey makeup, to pull out a white lace handkerchief from her very large and very fake bosom. Batting her thick, crooked lashes, she flashed him a lopsided grin, and waved it in front of his face. "Got a little on your chin," stepping closer, pointing her long, bedazzled acrylic nail at the spot. "Right there."

Taking a step back, wiping his face with the back of his hand, managing a friendly smile. "Oh, umm. Thanks."

"Pleasure is all mine, Monsieur Sexy," she cooed with boozy breath, as she teasingly played with the hot pink boa wrapped around her neck. "Classic Manhattan," blowing a kiss to the bartender, who winked back at her in return, she turned her heated gaze back onto Derek. "Names Lois."

And Derek did all he could not to stare at the large mole on her chin, that jiggled when she talked, though his Momma had raised a gentleman, so he politely shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Lois," giving her hand a quick peck. "What brings a fine _young_ thing like yourself, to a place like this?"

" _Ooo_ ," she blushed, dramatically fanning herself. "Oh, honeybuns!" she playfully looked him up and down. "If I was thirty years younger-…Hell! Even twenty," she hooted, then slid up next to him, and rasped. "I would make a man outta you."

Raising those dark expressive brows in shock, this woman was almost seventy, maybe even older! _Maybe he could hook her up with Rossi_? Chuckling to himself, he was just about to respond, when the lights dimmed and flashed a few times – indicating the show was about to start.

"Sorry, Lois, but I need to go find my seat," grabbing his drink, he quickly read the shiny card, though it made little sense.

 _Shit!_

That bejeweled hand reached for the card, and flipped it over. Lois tapped the golden script that read **Baiser toute la nuit: numero sept.**

She tutted excitedly. "Well, well, Mister VIP," handing the card back over. "You're in the very, very front. Look for the seat numbered seven."

"Wait, what does the rest say?" trying to sound the words out, only for Lois to push at his shoulders.

"Have fun!" she shouted.

Morgan stumbled his way towards the stage. The lights got a little darker and he moved a little faster, until he spotted a row of armchairs. They were the only seats in the front, and all of them were filled, except for the one that was dead center to the stage.

It was a beautiful, plush Victorian armchair. Its velvet and gold Casablanca pattern was scrumptious, and the back had a metal monogram of the number seven.

He barely had time to sit down, when the curtain parted, and a tall, lanky man with sleek black hair, and smeared mascara, clapped his hands, instantly ending the buzzing hum of chatter and faint music.

Donning a white tank, black trousers and red sequined suspenders, the man easily commanded the stage like a ringleader. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" his voice full and cunning. "To the Very Pretty Ladies Cabaret!" delicately flicking his cigarette with practiced poise. "Je m'appelle, Jonathan. And I shall be your host for the evening."

The room burst into thunderous, rowdy applause, and he held up a red tipped finger, and silenced the audience once more.

"This cabaret is where our gents are hot, but our ladies hotter," rolling his 'R's perfectly, while pretending to cup and shake his chest suggestively. "Where the bourbon is spiked underneath the candlelight. Where French kisses are…the _only_ kisses," opening his mouth, and provocatively licking his lips. "But beware my children of the night, for all who enter, will fall under the spell of the one and only, Miss Cherry...Jubilee!"

Wild catcalls erupted in the quickly darkening room, as the sharp, swirling sounds of drums being brushed, and the deep baritone of a trumpet, filled the electric space.

Derek took another swig of his drink, before placing it on the small table next to him. Blinking his eyes in pitch blackness, as excited whispers and dirty cheers were shouted around him, he couldn't help but to sit up straighter.

A singular spotlight came on, as the curtain lifted over the stage, revealing a woman completely folded over from the back. Long, ruby red nails, were wrapped around her ankles, and they gently tapped a beat with the music. Her curvy legs, were covered in black, striped thigh-high stockings, with a lace top that connected to a matching lace garter belt, which was roguishly peeking through, as well as the plump swells of her ass, beneath that obscenely, teensy leather skirt.

Swaying her hips seductively to the dark music, she leisurely slid her hands up over the curve of her calves and the flare of her hips, only to grab the end of her skirt and playfully shake it back and forth. Then she flashed the audience her fine, heart shaped ass. Earning her hoots of approval from everyone, but Morgan.

He could barely breathe, let alone utter a syllable. His throat was tight, back suddenly stiff, and every single nerve ending was on fire, and setting off warning bells. Yet, he prolonged his torment, by silently watching.

Watching, as the curvaceous woman bent at the waist, and raised her body, one glorious inch at a time. Swallowing his parched tongue, Derek wanted to look away, feeling like he was doing something naughty, almost forbidden, but the stirrings of arousal that flushed his body, kept his eyes glued to the exquisite woman and his ass rooted in that seat.

Balancing perfectly on those strappy crimson stilettos, she made each move with practiced precision, and it was oh-so very alluring. Finally standing straight up, she raised one hand high above her head, as her other hand slowly slid down her arm. Her beautiful, straight blonde hair was hanging down her back, swishing gently over her lavish corset.

The woman was the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and he had only seen her from behind. Though it was perhaps the way that she moved, that had already struck a tendril of familiarity within him. The hairs on the back of his neck were now standing at attention. He then licked the back of his teeth, needing saliva to help his suddenly parched tongue. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he braced himself, as she rolled those shapely hourglass hips, and slowly turned around.

The hot, bright light struck her face, and the air whooshed out of his lungs.

 _Holy shit!  
_

His jaw hit the floor, and all of his blood went south, straining his already heavy, pulsing dick with unbridled lust.

 _Holy…fucking…shit!_

Standing up there, dancing like a voluptuous harlot, was the one and only, Penelope Garcia. Though she wasn't wearing her signature quirky glasses tonight, and she was prowling around the stage like a carefree sex kitten to the voracious whistles and encouraging cheers that swarmed the room, she was still, very much, his Baby Girl.

And she was absolutely stunning. A true vision, that effortlessly, in that effervescent way that only Garcia could do, had everyone eating out of the palm of her hand. A hand, which she lifted towards her lips, as she seductively put a finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the digit, only to release it with a teasing, wet ' _pop_ '. Proving that she had to be a reincarnation of the Goddess Aphrodite. For his woman was purely sex incarnate, and by the mischievous glint in those lovely hazel eyes, she knew it too.

How could she not be, when she was simply irresistible with her smoldering, purple smokey eyes, thick black lashes, winged eyeliner, and those glossy garnet painted lips. It was while he was admiring her immaculate makeup, that he thought of the one and only time, when he had witnessed her not all dolled up. His breath hitched, and his face twisted with regret. It was after she had been shot, when he had taken her home to protect her, while that _man_ was still on the loose.

Her face had been completely bare, and she had looked so young, so innocent, standing there in her adorable jammies. He had wanted to hold her, kiss her, take away that pained look which had thankfully only momentarily dimmed her hopeful outlook on the world. That memory, though sweet, had brought with it, the reminder that he had confessed his true feelings for her that night.

And though she had returned the ' _I love you'_ , she obviously hadn't believed the severity of his words. For it was that same evening she had ran off with Lynch, leaving Derek standing by, with a speared heart and a broken spirit.

A trumpet burst, shattering his negative thoughts. Shaking his head, he brought his full attention back onto Penelope, and took in the sight of her hair. It was no longer that brazen copper, but was back to her original blonde tresses, which had his heart fluttering rapidly in his chest. It was now a pretty platinum color, with honey highlights, that weren't styled like her typical curls, but those sleek, straightened locks, which fell past her bare shoulders, were just as beautiful.

He couldn't help but to smile, to lean forward in his seat, wanting to be closer to her. For it was that shade, that dazzling blonde, that was so similar to what she used to wear, when he had first fallen in love with her.

It simply gave him hope. And he wasn't going to fuck it up this time. Nor was he going to let her traipse her way out of it. Nope. This was it.

His body was beginning to coil with poorly suppressed desire, and was thrumming with everything that screamed ' _Mine! Back off!'_ that he had to fight the powerful urge to run up there and claim her.

And he was seconds away from flashing his badge, and shutting this shit down, before anyone else could lay a greedy gaze upon her body. Clenching his jaw to a point that he could have easily cracked a molar. Eyes flashing dangerously, keeping them solely on her, he did his best to keep from storming the stage. Choosing to guzzle the rest of his drink down instead.

 _That perky ass of hers is in trouble! Fuckin' sexy little thing it is too..._

 _Focus, Morgan, focus-…. Oh, daaamn!_

 _Oh. Fuck…_

She gingerly danced her fingers over the swells of her breasts, that where pushed up proudly by that corset. They were large, pale, and looked oh-so-fucking soft. He wanted to wrap her up in a blanket and hide that deep valley of cleavage, and drag her off the stage, so that he could bury his face in there himself.

His stiff cock twitched painfully beneath his belt, and it took all of his might to remember how to breathe.

 _In…and out…in and out-….Oh, hell no!_

Then _good ol' little Jonathan_ , snapped his suspenders and walked up behind her. He held an arm out, which she gladly took, and he twirled her quickly, firmly, towards him. Pressing her back indecently against his front, they rolled their hips together to the increasing sensuous drum beat, and the crowd erupted accordingly.

Somewhere in the distance the deep, piercing tone of a saxophone added to the rhythm. Creating a sweltering dance that was downright dirty. Jonathan's hand wrapped tightly around her waist and then slipped lower, and lower, until he teased the red strap of her belt, grasping that smooth creamy thigh, only to then slide his hand up underneath her skirt.

Never missing a beat, Penelope dropped her head back onto her partner's shoulder, finally raising her heated gaze, beneath those newly trimmed bangs, to immediately lock eyes with Derek.

 _She was, definitely, trying to kill him_.

Unconsciously his fingers white-knuckled the armrests, as knotted tension furled his shoulders.

Some waitress dropped off his second drink, and giggled at his disgruntled expression. He frowned, and scooted back in his seat, trying not to cross his arms and pout. Though before he could dwell on the fact that some man was pawing his woman, the lights shifted, changing the space into vibrant red and violet.

As the music grew, more performers came out onto the stage. Two other couples; a pair of women and men, wearing sheer black bodysuits with skimpy lingerie underneath, each took a corner of the stage and imitated the salacious movements. The lights started to pulse and the dance became more frantic, even darker; precariously toeing the line of carnal obscenity.

By this point, Penelope had been twirled around. One of her knees was loosely wrapped around Jonathan's waist, flashing that black lace belt and panties; revealing the smooth, rounded flesh of her ass. Derek narrowed his gaze, watching with bated breath, as her hands clawed at the other man's chest. Then she grasped his white tank, and flung her head all the way back, creating a titillating arch, until she was looking at the audience upside down.

Taking note of her flexibility, for the little shit was going to be paying dearly for this rather risqué stunt later, only to flex his jaw, when she poked her cute, pink tongue out and playfully licked her lips.

Then the drums got louder, deeper, and Jonathan pulled her back and she jumped up into his arms. Locking both legs around him, Penelope mimicked what Derek wanted her to be doing later tonight, and for the rest of their lives, if she would just get over her stubborn insecurities and forgive him.

Her body snaked up and down, slithering against him in a taunting riding motion, and as the beat hit a crescendo, she ran a finger through his overly slicked hair, disheveling it. Tucking her head into the crook of his neck, Jonathan ran his hands from her thighs, up to tightly squeeze her ass, and Derek growled out loud, something guttural and possessive.

He had always known that _Chicago_ was one of Garcia's favorite musicals, for she loved the cabaret numbers, but he didn't remember any of these choreographed dance moves. Otherwise he would have bought her the damn DVD and had them watch it every movie night. This, however, was something more along the lines of burlesque, and he felt the stage was only missing a silvery pole and crisp dollar bills flying around it.

Then that little voice, which guided that raging green-eyed monster, had him checking himself. For this was his best friend's show, and if he wasn't so envious, then he would be beyond proud of her. They were professionals up there, who had clearly put in hours of hard work to make this show a success. Yes, it was raunchy, sexy, as all hell, but there was a refined class to the whole performance.

So, he sat back, bending his arm, resting his chin on his hand, he covered up part of his mouth, as his index finger tapped his cheek, and tried to relax. Settling in, he decided to enjoy the show, since she was doing this all for him. He knew that now, and it thrilled him greatly, and the molten fervor that had already flushed his body, intensified.

Penelope then broke away, and expertly flicked her wrist over her hip, unhooking that leather skirt. It unsnapped, hanging daintily in her hand, revealing the full garter belt and those black lace Brazilian panties. Derek was parched before; his mouth was watering now. He had recently fingered that soft, slick intimate flesh between her thighs, and he could tell from ten feet away, that she had waxed, everything.

 _Jesus…  
_

Penelope arched a brow, full lips pulling into a smirk, as she slowly walked down the steps at the front of the stage. Getting closer, Derek couldn't wipe that strained, goofy grin off of his face. Standing directly in front of him, she reached a hand out, and roughly palmed the top of his freshly shaved head. He moaned, quite loudly, and received giggles from nearby patrons.

She then bent at the waist. Now eye level with him, she took that last step, and lowered her mouth to his ear. Whispering deliciously, filthy words, that he didn't understand, only to jolt, when her warm, wet tongue darted out, and traced his ear. Her teeth nibbled, playfully bit, and then pulled the soft, spongy lobe into her mouth, and suckled. His eyes rolled back, and his dick throbbed painfully, making him want to desperately reach his hands up and wrap around her, never letting go.

Instead he closed his eyes, breathing in that familiar, sweet scent that was altogether comforting and arousing, only to shoot them wide open when he felt something cool placed around his neck.

Glancing down, he spotted her skirt hanging around his shoulders, and he quickly looked back up, only to watch her sashaying confidently away, towards that colorful alcove. The music slowly faded, and she grabbed the feathered bowler hat off of the pianist, and placed it on her head. Tucking the brim down firmly, before jumping up and crossing her legs, as she perched herself on that shiny grand piano.

A warm, gentle spotlight covered her, and she pulled out – much like Lois had done earlier – a white handkerchief, from her ample bosom. Impishly dabbing at her face, she then swiped, slowly, deliberately, across her heaving chest. Her hooded eyes never left Morgan's burning gaze, as she balled the lace material up, and then tossed it into the crowd.

A table full of young men, made fools of themselves scrambling to get it. Though one lucky lad did, and he held it up victoriously, and Derek wanted to shoot the fucker when he sniffed it and then snuck it into his coat pocket.

Lifting a shot glass, Penelope knocked it back, then proudly shook the empty glass high in the air, while Jonathan clapped his hands.

"Ah, look," dropping his suspenders from his shoulders, he fanned his tank top, and comically swiveled his hips. "Miss Jubilee, is going to sing her famous song about… her _amour_."

Penelope kept those gorgeous, hazel eyes glued to Derek, even as she pointed at the shirtless, tattooed pianist, who took her cue and began a slow, melodic tune.

Holding his breath, Derek didn't dare blink, not wanting to miss a single moment of her performance. And when she parted those full, glossy lips, releasing a seductive, throaty voice, and began to belt out those beautiful, foreign words, he nearly lost it. For it was her voice, a tone she only used specially for him, which was his biggest turn on. It was that dent in his armor that could so easily bring him to his knees.

She had used that voice, had been whispering dirty promises with it, for the past five years. Had kept him sane late at night when he couldn't sleep, and she would just talk – about everything and nothing – driving his demons away. She was his guiding light, connected via his headset when he kicked down doors and took down UnSub's. She gave him hope, and eased his fractured soul, with that voice. It was his soothing balm. And right now, she was using it like a siren, luring sailors blindly into a storm, and Derek was fully prepared to sink his ship, and dive in after her.

Her eyes glistened with sincerity, and though he only caught a few words, it was clear that she was professing something profound. Her hand trailed up her side, and over her breast; directly above her heart, only to go higher, where her fingers splayed across her porcelain skin. Rolling her neck, she arched her back and then slunk her way onto the piano. Kicking her legs straight up in the air, she gently tossed her head back and forth.

Her words began to mingle with kittenish mewls and breathy, feminine moans, and the audience was on the precipice with her. Derek, however, was doing his best, to tamp down his raging hard on. Grinding his teeth, only to breathe heavily through his nose when the hot, swollen tip leaked, wetting the front of his dove grey trousers.

 _Well, fuck…_

Discreetly throwing a napkin over his lap, Derek swigged the rest of his drink, as he watched his Baby Girl teasingly drag a stiletto down her stocking covered leg. She then slammed both of her heels onto the piano and thrust her pelvis into the air, only to lower her ass and then raise her chest. Then she slowly, spread her legs wide, dancing her fingers across her thighs, only to cup and then palm her crotch.

"Regardez-moi, mon amour," she purred, throwing a hand out, waving it in Derek's direction.

Then there was a complete blackout, to a round of applause and vulgar catcalls. Trying not to swallow his tongue, feeling suddenly overheated, he gripped his empty drink and gnawed on some melting ice, needing anything to help cool down.

The lights slowly lifted back onto the stage, revealing Jonathan lounging, with another dancer, on a velvet Victorian chaise. "Ah, what a beautiful song," rubbing his hands together. "If only…we had a man, to be serenaded to!"

A spotlight scanned the audience, and men; a range from those that were wearing business suits to similar costumes as the cast, eagerly raised their hands. Derek tepidly glanced around, though when the heat of the light landed on him and didn't move, he froze.

 _Shit!_

"Ah, it's Monsieur Sexy!" Jonathan sat up, happily waving his hands. "Look, look, ah, so handsome. So strong," his eyes flashed with merriment. "How perfect!"

Derek turned his head, searching for Penelope, and when they locked eyes, she nibbled on her bottom lip, and winked.

His dick took notice, and throbbed against his thigh, as a fissure of excitement shot down his spine. The same tune started to play again, this time a little faster, more lively, and then a flash of hot pink struck his vision, and he gasped.

For standing directly in front of him, hips swaying, bosom jiggling, eyes dancing brightly, was Lois.

"So, we meet again," pointing her finger at him, as she wrapped the boa around his neck.

Derek shot his worried gaze across the room, eyes narrowing when Penelope shrugged her shoulder, daintily covered her mouth, and giggled.

"Oh, how exciting!" Jonathan's booming voice exclaimed. "Our first lap dance of the night, from Madame Lois. Let us give a warm, round of applause for Lucky Number Seven!"

The audience cheered, and Derek felt sweat bead his brow, as Lois' jerky movements became more sensuous, and she got closer, and closer…

To be continued…

 **A/N The rating is going to be a high 'M' for the following and last chapters. Please take note!**


	11. XI

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! And special shout out, to my lovely Guest Reviewers, I see you and appreciate you!  
**

 **Also, I suggest listening to the song _Ammore Annascunnuto_ by Celine Dion. It's what Penelope is singing during the show, and will help set the mood for this chapter. **

**Story Warnings: Strong Sexual Situations and Coarse Language (If this is not your thing, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read).  
**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter: XI

Choking, Derek wheezed, wiping spittle from his mouth, as he plucked a hot pink feather from his teeth, only to be hit in the face with thick, gray-white curls.

By now, everyone was clapping along, some even stomping their feet, while Jonathan conducted the audience, with the finesse of a classic maestro. Though Derek was positive, that an orchestra leader would not be gyrating their hips, cigarette in hand, as they danced around women in revealing lingerie. No, this was something darker, raunchier, and which he was reluctantly growing pleasantly fond of.

Clamping his eyes shut, he took a deep breath and immediately regretted it, as that pungent fragrance assaulted his senses. It reminded Derek of his lovely grandmother Leonora. She was a true spitfire, had that sarcastic charm and fierce independent streak, that was very similar to his Baby Girl. Not bothering to delve into the psychology behind that discovery, he instead remembered the delectable flavors of Granny Nora's favorite pecan pie and peach cobbler. They were absolutely divine, and he always wondered how a woman with so much knowledge, could have the worst taste in perfume.

She wore that famous Jean Naté, that smelled like rotten citrus fruit and old bathwater, and it was only made worse by the earthy robust blend of patchouli oil and talcum powder. It made his nose itch terribly, and it was that familiar scent that was rolling off of Lois, as she twirled heartily in front of him.

Blinking his misty eyes, he tried not to sneeze, when she leaned over him and yanked the fluffy boa back and forth across his neck. She then started to wildly shimmy, chest jiggling, nearly bouncing with the force, and Morgan sent up a quick prayer; grateful to whomever was listening, that her dull chartreuse corset was holding in place.

Though, perhaps in hindsight, he had celebrated prematurely. For Lois reached out, gripped the back of his head, and shoved his face into her overabundant bosom. It was powdery, a bit sweaty, and when she wiggled excitedly against him, he had to grit his teeth.

 _Oh, Baby Girl, just you wait…_

Grumbling to himself, taking a gasping breath when she finally released him, only for his eyes to shoot wide open, when she swayed her large hips and clambered up onto his lap. He grunted, and bit back a curse when she rolled all of her weight onto his obviously protruding and very tender erection.

She sat down, eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, mon chéri!" she hooted, doing a rough, spastic imitation of the slithering movement, which Penelope had sensuously done earlier. "Are you _happy_ to see, Madame Lois!"

The crowd snickered at his embarrassing predicament, but his face flushed with heat, tainting his beautiful caramel skin a vibrant red, at her next words. "If anyone feels scared tonight," came her abrasive taunt. "Have no fear, because this fine gent is _packin'_ quite a weapon," raising her hand in the air, she actually meowed like a cat and even pretended to claw at the air.

"Someone get that man a drink!" someone shouted from the back of the room, eliciting squeals of approval.

Derek wanted to slink into the plush armchair and disappear, but his pride wouldn't let him. Instead, he took the opportunity to gain back his floundering composure. Peering around Lois, his heated gaze locked with Penelope's, and a cocky smirk graced his lips.

Failing to notice that the woman propped up on his lap, was also hooked up to a microphone, he growled. "Oh, don't worry," voice dark, dripping with sex – a husky tone that never failed to make his girl blush – echoed around the club. "I'll be _protecting_ Miss Jubilee with it tonight."

Pleased with himself, he watched, as Penelope jolted from her lounged position atop the piano. Her back went rigid, jaw falling slack, as stunned amusement furrowed those manicured brows, while that adorable pink bloomed across her cheeks, just like he knew it would.

A breath of silence loomed over the room, and then everyone, including many members of the cast, erupted with ' _Ooh's_ and _Ah's_ '.

Though, his ego rapidly deflated, when the star of the show pursed those full, pouty lips into a thin, straight line, and when those radiant hazel eyes narrowed into angry slits, he knew that he was in deep, deep trouble.

"Oh, Monsieur," Penelope purred, impressing him with her strikingly perfect French accent. The heat of the spotlight faded off of him, and followed her every move instead, as she slowly uncrossed her curvy legs, jumped down from her heavenly perch, and strolled her way back towards the stage. "I have no need for your _little_ …" eyes flashing dangerously, as she gave Derek a pointed look. "Baton."

Catcalls exploded, and the punchline rimshot from the drummer – a ridiculing ' _ba-dum-tis'_ – told Derek that she had just made a checkmate. Her lips quirked with triumph, and he gave her a curt nod in defeat. They had always been brilliant masters of the cat and mouse game, and tonight he was going to make sure that they would both be winners.

Lois snorted inelegantly upon his lap. Covering her mic, so only he could hear, she lowered her head – warm breath tickling his neck – and whispered. "Nice to finally meet Miss Jubilee's very own Hot Stuff," giving him a knowing wink, then a stern look, only for her bejeweled hand to cup the swollen flesh between his legs. "Now, you better treat her right, or I'll keep your balls as a souvenir."

Shocked, his complexion paled, as she tightened her sturdy grip when he didn't respond. Making him wince and squirm away.

"I promise!" he gritted out, glancing around frantically to see that everyone's attention was now glued to the stage.

Then the warm lights dimmed, only to fill the stage in bright, dazzling emerald, as a white curtain; a lot smaller than the lavish velvet one, descended upon the stage.

Lois smiled, and gave his reddened cheek a firm, but gentle pat. "Atta-boy. Now, pay close attention, dearie!" eyes gleaming with cunning levity. "You definitely don't wanna miss this next part," doing one last spirited shimmy, she staggered off his lap and vanished into the crowd.

Fanning his damp shirt, letting the cool air of the club caress his heated skin, he took a much needed breath, only to hiss through his teeth at the sight before him.

Penelope gave him a heavy-lidded, impishly suggestive look, before disappearing behind the curtain. The vibrant lights narrowed their focus, onto the shimmering, nearly sheer fabric, enough to cast a dark shadow of her voluptuous feminine curves.

A man with a scorpion neck tattoo, which reminded Morgan of an UnSub he had chased down and arrested not too long ago, emerged on stage, with a beautifully ornate black and gold accordion. There was a long beat of silence, as Penelope took position – back facing the audience, gingerly raising her hands high above her head – and once she posed, cocking that flared hip to the side, the man began to play.

His arms moved like a wave, bringing the room to life, as a bellowing, sprightly tune filled the space. Another man then emerged, wearing circle wire-framed glasses, while amorously playing a violin. At the same moment that the alcove, which housed the piano, lit back up in soft hues of marigold. Presenting a woman, in a burgundy beaded flapper dress, black hair styled in sleek Marcel waves, and a glitzy, peacock feathered headband, as she expertly handled the cello with refined gusto.

The air vibrated, with clear precision, adding to the exotic music. It was deep, and enchanting, transporting the patrons to a faraway land that was ruled by the Temptress behind the curtain.

Her hands entwined together, lush hips rolling leisurely to the beat, as another figure appeared next to her. Derek couldn't tell if they were male or female, for their figure was the polar opposite of the lush femininity that was Penelope. They had sharp edges and long limbs, and they took the few shorts steps to stand directly behind her, blocking her shadow from the audience's enthralled gaze.

Their hands moved swiftly, and Derek's prick throbbed with titillating fervor, when he realized what was happening. The thick ribbon, from Penelope's corset, was billowed out around her, as the mysterious figure behind her dutifully untied it.

She dropped her hands, just as the top knot was loosened, and the person lifted the stiff material over her head. They moved away, and Penelope turned sideways, casting a round shadow of her full, perky breasts. Her fingers caressed down her neck and over her large chest, only to stop at their intended destination. Her very erect nipples. He knew them to be petal pink and soft, and he salivated, as her fingers flicked and then generously squeezed the ample flesh.

Somehow their conversation at the diner, barreled its way into his clouded mind, making him wonder why this woman had ever felt that she wasn't sexy. Especially, since every fiber of her being oozed unbridled sensuality. She was a femme fatale, wielding a gun, and all she had to do was pull the trigger, and he would be at her feet in an instant, willing to commit any immoral act.

It was altogether breathtaking and addictive.

Penelope released one perfect tit, and rested her hand right beneath her breasts. Rolling her head slowly, back and forth, she glided her fingers down the soft swell of her belly. When she got to the top edge of her garter belt, she slipped beneath it, and snapped the lace material against her hip.

The figure reappeared, carrying something that looked almost like layers of necklaces dangling from their hands. Penelope stilled, then reached out a hand to stroke, what could only be her next costume. This time she was facing the audience, as she lifted her hands once more, and then stepped into the garment. The person looped it around her neck and secured it around her back, before twirling Penelope away from them, letting the tinkling top swish enticingly around her torso.

They soon walked away, leaving her standing all alone, as the dulcet music began to grow, and the rich emerald faded into soft candlelight. Then that familiar throaty purr – one that wasn't her normally pitchy, rapid tone, but was a deep vibrato that Derek was used to hearing only when she was teasing him – started to sing. It sounded unlike the powerful belting that she had done earlier, rather she was now serenading something delicate, like a lullaby.

It was a low, intoxicating sound which sent a fissure of heat down his spine, and twitched his stiff, swollen member. Grinding his teeth together, for there was no way he was getting up anytime soon. He had already been called out on his obvious infatuation with _Miss Jubilee._ He didn't need further embarrassment by wobbling his way to the Men's room.

Focusing on breathing, he tried to listen to the words. They weren't of the sweet flirtatious French variety, which she had been seducing him with for years, but it was more like classic Italian. A romantic language, sung for lovers and soulmates. It was hauntingly beautiful, but equally as captivating. If anyone would appreciate this rendition, it would certainly be David Rossi. His beloved dialect was being performed with such exquisite passion, it was like sipping on a sumptuous wine for the senses. He would love it. Though, unfortunately for him, Morgan was selfish, and would be keeping his Baby Girl's hidden talents a secret.

A smirk masked his face, as he thought of those alluring words falling from her pouty lips, head thrown back, as she undulated her hips above him. Sinking further into her slick heat, as she fervently begged for completion.

 _Oh, he was going to have a lot of naughty fun, when he got his hands on her._

Then that organza curtain was lifted above the stage, and Derek felt his lungs collapse, as his heart stuttered to a stop. Choking on his tongue, he tried to clear his throat and tighten his gut – desperately holding back the intense impulse to cum right then and there.

 _What…the…FUCK!?_

His mind screamed, even as his cock tried to burst through the biting zipper of his trousers. Swallowing, feeling the muscles in his arms cramp, but his deathly white-knuckled grasp wouldn't loosen.

Derek had thought the corset was the sexiest fucking thing he had ever laid eyes on. Oh, how he had been wrong. So very, very wrong.

Appreciative whistles and lascivious catcalls erupted around him, as the warmth of the spotlight settled over her body – revealing a vulnerably enticing Penelope. She was simply ravishing, with her lush curves exposed before him in the hottest piece of lingerie he had ever laid eyes on.

It was similar to a harness, and it was made out of the finest opulent pearls, strung together by a thin silver chain. The mesh like necklace came to two triangular points, but instead of fabric for the bra cups, there were strands of pearls that were layered over her bare, ample breasts. Pearls of different sizes and colors – striking white, warm gold and pretty pink – hung daintily over her alabaster skin.

The lower it went, the larger the space between the chains grew, until four long pearl strands draped over her belly, kissing over the top of her garter belt, to loop around her sides, and fasten to the single chain dangling down her back. Then there were three identical pearl strands that dipped into the deep valley of her cleavage, joining the bra together, and hanging straight down and past her belly button, that swished provocatively with every movement she made.

He would gladly cash in all of his overtime, in order to purchase that foxy little number. For he wanted to drag his hands through the cool, pastel pearls, loving the contrast against her warm naked flesh, as he plunged into that tight, velvet vice between her thick, creamy thighs. It was an investment that he planned to thoroughly enjoy, over and over again.

The men next to him shifted in their seats, and hollered their approval. Reminding him that Penelope was nearly naked, beyond indecent, as she leisurely traipsed around the stage, in front of a room full of people.

Giving her body an intense perusal; trying to look at her face to listen to those beautiful lyrics, only to linger unabashedly at her buxom, cantaloupe shaped tits. They looked ripe and succulent, and he desperately wanted to sink his teeth into that soft flesh and suckle. Then she swayed those hourglass hips, and the pearls danced over her skin – exposing those taut, darkened nipples – and he tasted bitter copper in his mouth, having bit down too hard on his cheek.

 _Jesus!_

Managing to find the strength to quickly peel his eyes away, he finally gazed up at her and caught her knowing grin and coquettish wink. A tendril of excitement shot down his spine, and he leaned a little more forward in his seat.

Watching, as she picked up a long golden cigarette holder, and knowing her, it was completely herbal and nontoxic. Taking a deep inhale, she held the vape in her mouth, as she sashayed towards Jonathan, who was now sitting on a black bentwood chair, with his arm resting on the back, and a large crooked grin masking his face. Stopping right next to him, she lowered her head, puckered her lips, and blew a smoke ring into his face.

The music got deeper, and she flicked her wrist with an air of arrogance, as she stood in front of him, facing the audience, before bending her knees and sitting on his lap. She slowly spread her legs wide, leaning her back against his front, before dropping her head onto his left shoulder, and carelessly looping her right arm around his neck.

Jonathan was fawning over her; simpering with pleasure, before wrapping his index finger and thumb firmly around her wrist, only to pull it away from their joined bodies, latch onto the smooth porcelain skin, and nibble.

A foul expletive slipped from Derek's lips, making Jonathan look up, with a lascivious smirk. Then the little fucker began to pepper open-mouthed kisses, starting at the palm of her hand, down into the crook of her elbow, and then slowly up to her bare shoulder.

Derek frowned, eyes narrowing at the intimate gesture, but when Penelope started to sing again, and he recognized the song, he calmed down – though, only slightly.

It was one of Penelope's favorites. One that she would always play while driving them around in Esther, on a rare day off work. It was from her old CD collection, and he would often find her humming the tune around the office. He usually stayed hidden, smiling to himself, while she remained absorbed in her own little world. However, curiosity won out, and he had eventually asked her to translate it for him.

As Penelope closed her eyes, getting lost in the words, he remembered the story behind the song…and it finally made sense.

Tears misted his burning obsidians, forcing him to blink rapidly to clear his vision. Shaking his head, he watched as Jonathan took the fancy cigarette from Penelope, who was now playing with his sleek locks, as her voice resonated around him.

"Cuant anne pe…Stu munne e cuant anne ancora…" she purred. "Si se putess. E si teness a pacienza…" tugging on Jonathan's hair, she arched her back, grinding her hips into him. "Simme accusì!" she gasped. "Nuje c'annammuramme…Fine a chiagnere…" opening her eyes, those glistening hazel's locked with Derek's. "Niente e nisciune…Chistu desiderie e te…."

Reminiscing, as the memory of her explaining those lovely foreign words while they were cooped up inside her lair, washed over him. " _How many years in…this world and how many more,"_ she hummed, face rosy with embarrassment; unable to meet his inquisitive gaze. " _If it is possible. And if we have the patience…"_ she had smiled softly, dabbing at her suddenly damp cheeks. " _We are made like this_!" her breath became ragged, nearly faltering, and Derek couldn't help but to feel like she was confessing something profound. " _We fall in love…Until we cry_ ," she whispered, finally lifting her gaze onto him, while raw emotions flitted across her beautiful face. " _Nothing and no one else…I only want you_ …"

It hit him like a ton of bricks, and knocked him breathless.

 _Oh, Baby Girl…_

Derek shucked in a sharp breath, feeling something crumble within him, breaking the last restraints of the frozen chasm which had many years ago, kept him from finding happiness. The severity of those lyrics seemed to have crawled their way into his soul, quelling every nerve ending, blemish, and insecurity with…love. And not just any kind of love. No, this was incredibly overwhelming, mutual adoration.

For the woman up there had stolen his heart, and had just handed hers over with such honest sincerity, it had struck him like a lightning bolt, and he wanted to hold her, wrap her up in his arms, and never let go.

He was so busy fighting the sensational storm within him, that he had missed the rest of her song, and the majority of the show. For it wasn't until the thunderous applause exploded around him, that he was jolted out of his deep thoughts. Realizing he was the only one still sitting, he discreetly adjusted his trousers and awkwardly stood up. Then he let out a proud whistle, when Penelope reemerged, wearing a sheer black, lace trimmed robe, that was tied loosely around her waist.

The cast held out their hands, gesturing towards their vivacious leading lady. Penelope was beaming, as she took the front of the stage. Clasping her hands in front of her, she did a cute, little curtsy, before grabbing the hands of Jonathan and the accordion player, for their final bow. They all stepped back, and as that lush velvet curtain descended on stage, Penelope made eye contact with Derek and nodded towards the alcove.

He gave her a warm, strained smile, before she disappeared. Taking his time while the patrons slowly made their way back up the stairs and into the cool Virginia night, he ordered a Jack and Coke, and moseyed his way towards the piano.

Sitting down on a dark plum Victorian chaise lounge, located in the far back of the alcove, he swirled the ice around his glass, and waited. The painful throb of his arousal had dulled, but not enough to ease the tension in his muscles or the tick of his jaw. So when the overhead lights dimmed and the idle chatter of the nightclub became silent, and all he heard were the distinct click-clacking of heels, he schooled his face into feign indifference.

A few seconds later Penelope appeared out of breath, carrying her cellphone, a dozen red long stem roses and a flourishing harvest bouquet of Royal Sunset lilies, deep orange tulips and purple carnations, held together by a sparkly golden bow. She stood there, nervously shifting her weight back and forth, only to buy herself a little more time by raising the flowers to her face. Her eyes twinkled with subdued pleasure, as she smelt the sweet, floral scent that had already wafted its way towards Derek.

Taking a tiny, hesitant step inside the small space, she placed the items on top of the shiny grand piano and smiled.

"Hi," she squeaked out, seeming to lose her sensual bravado, as she stared into his stern, fervid gaze.

He remained quiet; admiring the blush that had bloomed across her cheeks. Watching closely, as anxiety allowed her quirky habits to flounder her confidence.

Fidgeting, fingers playing with the silk sash around her waist, she stared at her feet and blurted. "We have the place for an hour. Mallory kicked everyone out," daring a peek at him, through her thick lashes, only for his expressive brow to arch in response.

Letting out a sigh, she squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin with renewed determination, having realized that the ball was still in her court, and she was going to have to make the first move. Walking over towards the drapes, she yanked on the silver cord that was securing them to the wall. Billowing out the crushed velvet like a swift, gentle breeze, enclosing the restless occupants intimately inside the alcove.

Warm honey hues from the flickering candlelit mason jars, cast vibrant shadows against the exposed brick walls and plum and wine drapery, adding an ethereal feel that made Penelope look delectably angelic.

Derek took a long, languid sip, and then placed the glass on the short mahogany pub table. Settling against the plush cushion, he tweaked the wrinkled cloth of his rolled up sleeve, and then rested his arm over the back of the lounge.

The pearls of her top swished enticingly underneath the sheer fabric of her robe, as she stepped closer. "You came," tucking a sleek lock behind her ear, revealing an orange sapphire stud earring, which brought out the beautiful golden flecks in her eyes. "I mean I knew you would. I wanted you to…even though…I told you _not_ to," anxious giggles bubbled over, and she covered her mouth, and whispered. "But you came here…tonight. And I'm glad…that you did," nibbling on her plump bottom lip, as her eyes glanced everywhere but his face.

"Penelope," his voice was gruff, and the use of her first name – said with such love and conviction – had her eyes shooting wide open and she burst at the seams.

"I'm sorry!" came her anguished cry. "So, so…so very… _very_ sorry," wrapping the sash around her hand tightly, only to drop it and twist her fingers together. "I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was scared. And I panicked…And I-…."

"Penelope," he tried again, only for his lips to quirk into an amused grin, as her hands began to wildly flail around her when she started to pace.

"I mean I was being kinda stupid," she rambled. "I mean gosh! You're…you," tilting her head to the side, as her warm hazel eyes gave him an appreciative once over. "All tall, dark and beyond handsome. You're strong and muscle-y, with those lovely, lovely abs," her pink tongue darted out, as she slowly licked over her teeth and then her lips. "And you're smart, brave, and oh so… _strong_ ," she breathed out, stopping in her tracks. "And I just…" her chin quivered and her eyes filled with tears, making him lean forward. "I'm me."

"Penelo-…"

"No!" she cut him off, pointing an accusing red tipped finger at him. "I never ever, _ever_ thought that you liked-liked me," she snorted angrily, wiping at her damp cheeks. "How was I supposed to know that!?" giving him an incredulous look. "I mean…I saw the women that you _chose_ to dance with, when we went out to bars with the team. I saw the women that you _chose_ to date. A-And…and they looked nothing like me. Not even a little teensy bit, and I knew that I never had a chance with you," her voice grew soft, vulnerably tender.

He watched quietly, with bated breath, hating everything that she said, not only because he had regrettably done those things, but because of the obvious pain it had caused her. He wanted to take the hurt that he had unknowingly inflicted upon her, and show her how much he truly loved her. But, before he could do so, he knew that she needed to get it all off her chest. So he found the last remnant of his thinning patience, and listened, very carefully.

"And I looked…and looked," she continued, needing to fill the silence before she lost her courage. "Everywhere. For something else," finally meeting his concerned gaze. "For somebody who wasn't you," choking back a sob. "I tried, I really did. I'm the Oracle-of-all-things-technological, and I still couldn't find anyone better than you," she laughed though it held no mirth. "You're too damn perfect!"

She stumbled, only for Derek to reach out and firmly clutch her hips, though before he could speak, she placed a finger over his lips. "I spent all this time dating Kevin, hoping that one day he would be as sweet and kind as you. As charming and compassionate. Smart and brave," using her knuckles to softly caress his cheek and chiseled jaw; enjoying the prickle of hair from his trimmed goatee. "That he would remember the way I drink my coffee. Two creams and-…"

"One sugar," he finished for her, stilling her movements. "And it has to be hazelnut flavored," eyes dancing with smug satisfaction. "Unless it's during the holidays, then its pumpkin spice everything. Though for December, it's strictly gingerbread and peppermint."

She blinked, wanting to all at once laugh and cry at his ability to just be _himself._ So instead she sniffled and rambled on. "Or that wool makes me itchy, and that I'm allergic to-…"

"Shellfish. But you're a Cali girl, who loves her sushi, and eats it anyway," giving her a pointed look, as his thumbs rubbed gently, but firmly over the slight flare of her hip bone, drawing little breathy pants from her lips. "And that you love anything coconut flavored, but the scent gives you a headache. Depending on your mood, your favorite color is either periwinkle or lemon yellow," she giggled, a happy, tearful sound. "You still cry when you watch _The Lion King_ and _Cinderella_ ," he added, and she glared, even though her lips were battling an affectionate grin.

Her soft, petite hands came down to cover his much larger, calloused ones. Squeezing them gently, as he brought her closer, to stand between the 'V' of his legs.

"That it's me who should be apologizing," he took a deep, trembling breath. "Because I should have proven to you, long ago, that I not only love you Penelope. My sweet, sexy Baby Girl," pressing her against him, he grazed his lips over her belly, giving her a soothing kiss. "I'm _in_ love with you. Have been, always will be."

"Oh, Hot Stuff," she cooed, bringing her hand up to grip the back of his neck, only to clutch the collar of his shirt.

"I'm sorry, that I made you doubt us," he pulled away from her, needing to see those beautiful eyes of hers. "I'm an idiot."

She laughed heartily, blinking away fresh tears. "Yes, you are," he frowned, furrowing his brows, and she dropped her head to pepper his face with little, precious smooches. "But so am I."

His hands wrapped around her, fingers bunching the sheer material around her waist, as he grasped her shapely hips.

"Fuck, Baby," lowering his hands, squeezing the plump, rounded flesh of her ass, as he laid his head against her and took a long, heady whiff of the scent he craved. "I love you, so fuckin' much."

She froze, and then brought her hand down, tilting his chin up to look at her. "I'm in love with you too, Derek Morgan."

He growled, and his hand that had been sliding lower down her thigh, swiftly changed direction and shot back up to clasp her neck, bringing her closer, so that he could capture her lips in a dark, smoldering kiss.

Her eyes cinched shut, lips parting, and when she slumped against him, that was all the encouragement he needed to thrust his tongue into her warm, velvety smooth mouth. Their teeth clicked harshly together. Lips bruising, as he hungrily swirled his tongue into every crevice. Tasting her. Consuming her. And when she tugged away for much needed air, he latched his lips around her smaller, slippery muscle and suckled. Imitating what he wanted to do between her legs, making her moan and wobble in his grasp.

She pulled away, gasping – eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, and glossy, garnet smeared lipstick – looking exquisitely ravishing. The sight of her aroused, only flared the gnawing need within him. He couldn't wait any longer. He needed her. Now.

He tugged on the hem of her robe. "Off," was his sharp demand, as a naughty, selfish idea formed in his mind.

 _Paybacks certainly were a bitch._

She blinked several times, while her index finger stroked her lips in stunned wonderment. So he reached out, and pulled on the loose knot, freeing his prize possession.

The cool air of the club licked over her exposed skin, and she shivered.

"Off," he repeated.

Her teeth teased her bottom lip, only to coyly grin, as she slipped the light material from her shoulders, pooling enticingly around those come-fuck-me stilettos. His skin began to heat, and he shifted, trying to ease the burning ache between his legs.

She tutted in mock disapproval, staring shamelessly at the large bulge underneath those dove grey trousers. "Oh, my poor, Baby Boy," she husked, and before he could continue his game, she quickly dropped to her knees before him.

 _Oh, damn!_

Her hands had already unbuckled his leather belt, before he could even process what was happening. Her fingers then delicately grabbed the zipper, stopping to look up at him, before she carefully dragged it over his erection. The biting metal dug into his tender flesh, causing his nostrils to flare, as he hissed from the stinging pleasure.

The swollen, nearly purple, mushroomed flared tip, popped free from the elastic of his black boxer briefs. Penelope moaned, lowering her head to gently kiss the heated length through the damp cotton.

 _Fuck!_

Derek jolted, rolling his hips into her face. Needing the release that had plagued him since she first appeared on stage. Though he had plans. Things he wanted to do with the gorgeous minx before him. However, Penelope seemed to have other ideas.

Her short, red tipped finger, traced, scratching the cotton against his throbbing member. Making him squirm, and clutch the cushions of the chaise lounge, only to gasp, sputtering for breath, when she tugged the elastic of his briefs downwards. Exposing his rigid length, to the cool air and her fervent gaze.

Penelope licked her lips, one hand wrapping around the base, as her mouth covered the entire tip. Her wet tongue lapping at the hot, hard flesh. Humming when she tasted the tangy, sticky substance that had already leaked out.

 _Oh…shit, damn…fuck!_

 _Breathe, Morgan, breathe…O-Oh…  
_

Her tongue swirled around the tip, and then licked down the entire length, and slowly back up again. A perfect, daunting rhythm that had him thinking of dead puppies and naming football stats from the 1986 Bears, as he desperately tried not to explode right there.

Her other hand joined in, adding a firm, flick over his shaft, that had his toes curling in pure delight.

"Damn, Garcia," swallowing hard, reaching his hands down to grab her hair, wanting to see those full pouty lips, as she took him in her mouth once more.

Holding her long, blonde locks in a tight fist, he accidentally yanked her scalp back, as his hips thrust into her mouth. He was expecting her to choke. To stop. To glare up at him. But when, she released him with a sloppy wet ' _pop_ ', and then kissed his tight balls, only to giggle and say. "You like that, Baby?" had him clamping his eyes shut, as he nearly lost it.

"Fuck you're beautiful," he murmured, hissing as she enveloped him once more inside the slippery heat of her mouth.

He stared through heavy-lidded eyes, as she bobbed her head up and down, hollowing out her cheeks, as she slid him in and out. Hazel eyes misting over, staring up at him through those thick lashes, as she took a little more of his thick, long length, each and every time. She then began to fondle his balls, rolling them gently, but firmly over the cool skin from the palm of her hand. The contrast sent a shiver of pleasure shooting down his legs and coiling in his lower gut.

She hummed, over the slurping noises she was making. Releasing him once more, she gathered the excess saliva, swishing it in her mouth, before slowly spitting it onto the swollen, sensitive tip of his cock.

Penelope was so comfortable with the erotic gesture, he nearly flat-lined, as his mind short-circuited.

Derek growled, and bucked against her. Panting with need, feeling his balls tighten, as his body toed the line of that sensual crest, needing just a little more to hit that pinnacle and crumble in her arms.

Her tongue peeked out, lapping at the sensitive patch of skin beneath the tip. She smirked as his restraint began to falter. Her gaze was impishly daring, as she firmly pressed her lips around him. Staining his dark, caramel skin a vibrant red from her lipstick. She cooed in approval and did it again, peppering his shaft with open-mouthed kisses – leaving a colorful trail of herself behind.

"Come for me, Handsome," she purred endearingly, as her sharp nail scratched down the long, pulsing vein.

And when she added an exquisite flick of her wrist and one long, perfect lick, that was all it took.

"Baby, wait, no…I'm gonna-fuck…" he keened, hips jerking uncontrollably, and losing total clarity.

She pushed a hand into his thigh, holding him in place, as she wrapped her swollen lips around him. Eagerly accepting the hot, sticky spurt that hit the back of her throat. She moaned, as he convulsed, and choked out expletives and sweet praises.

Derek went limp, sinking into the plush cushions. Feeling like time had stopped, as the painful throb dulled to a pleasurable ache. Several minutes passed, before he opened his eyes, still panting, needing to blink away the white heat that clouded his vision.

"Welcome back," she teased, taking her index finger to wipe the little drizzle off of her chin, only to trace it over her lips and lick it off.

" _Garcia_ …" he rasped out, smirking proudly, as he watched her eyes go wide, and let out a shocked, breathy ' _Oh my'_.

She gulped, tearing her gaze away from his dick that had only barely softened, but was now fully hard once more.

"You should put that _little_ talent, on your resume," she quipped, even as her cheeks flushed with giddy amazement.

"Penelope," tucking himself back inside his stained briefs.

"Hmm?" finally looking up at him, as she absently rubbed his strong, tense thighs.

"It's your turn," he smirked, easily gathering her into his arms, as he stood up.

"What? My turn…" she trailed off, glancing around the dimly lit alcove.

"Mmhmm," he chuckled, loving the way the cool pearls of her top, felt beneath his hands.

"Here?" she wheezed. "Right now!?" only to squeal, when he led her back towards the piano.

His gaze was hot, swirling with intensity, and when he lifted her up and slammed her ass back down onto the sturdy, shiny surface, she felt a shiver of excitement course through her veins in anticipation.

To be continued…


	12. XII

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support and endless patience! And special shout out, to my lovely Guest Reviewers, I see you and appreciate you!  
**

 **Story Warnings: Strong Sexual Situations and Coarse Language**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter: XII

 _O-Oh…Oh my…Stars and garters…_

Hot, panting breath tickled her heaving chest, while long, deft fingers and calloused palms, caressed a feverish path over her bare skin. Stoking the fire that had already pooled slick heat, between her quivering thighs.

"Derek," she whined, tilting her head – giving him more access to nuzzle the smooth column of her neck.

His response was a mumbled grunt, as the strong muscle of his tongue lazily lapped at the spongy flesh over her shoulder, only to trace the peep of collarbone, and then sneakily sink his teeth into the firm indent.

A surprised hiss escaped her lips, as her nails scratched at the taut, smooth skin of his waist. Having already yanked his cotton shirt free, but only managing to unbutton half of it, as the man before her was quite distracting.

He smirked, using his tongue to tenderly soothe the reddened flesh, while his large hands held her hips in place, as she squirmed against him.

"Der-…" she breathed out, reaching her hands up to fumble with the stiff fabric – itching to touch more of that beautiful mocha skin – only for him to secure both of her wrists and slam her palms down onto the piano top, as he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"What did I say?"

"Huh?" blinking her heavy-lidded eyes several times, searching for lucidity.

"No touching," his reminder was harsh, lacking his usual playfulness.

She huffed, and then cutely pouted her bottom lip in frustration. "Not fair!" she whined, wiggling her hands free, though her fingers barely grazed over his belly button, before they were held back down. This time with a firmer grip. It was rough, brooking no argument, and she couldn't deny the titillating fervor that had her clit pulsing with need.

Their relationship always held a hint of Dom/sub dynamics. Derek was a pure alpha male. He was humble, but persistent, and his presence alone commanded attention. He was a natural born leader, who stuck to his values. His strength was unyielding, which was evident from his rippling muscles and the challenging gleam in those lovely amber eyes.

Yes, Derek was, without a doubt, an alpha male. And luckily for Penelope, he was one who knew how to treat a lady.

He had been showing her just how equipped he was for the job since the day he accidentally called her Gomez. It was one of her favorite memories of him, since it was the first moment that she had been struck with how handsome he was, and had fallen in love with that disarmingly cute, dimpled grin. She knew then, that she couldn't stay mad at him. Though, she had regrettably let her petty insecurities blind her from the fact that he absolutely adored the floor she walked on.

And if she wasn't so busy trying to get Derek to give her what she wanted – that scorching, earth-shattering pleasure, which she had been ardently craving all week – then she would of facepalmed herself for not having recognized sooner, what his simple, everyday gestures meant.

Like how he would hold doors open for her, help put her coat on, and had no problem carrying her flashy and frilly, overstuffed purses when they were out in public. Now, granted, he would grumble just a little, but if any one gave him a sideways glance, he would straighten his shoulders – silently telling them to mind their own business – as he stood proudly next to her.

Or the comforting way that he would place a firm hand on her lower back, guiding her through a crowd, as his eyes cautiously glanced around for any threats. He was always on high alert around her. His top priority was making sure that she felt safe. For instance, if they went out to a bar with the team, he would situate them so that her legs were between his, while his arm draped over the back of her stool – squashing anyone's hopes of getting near her, by letting everyone know that she belonged to him.

And now, thinking back on it, it all made sense. Her Hot Stuff would be on the dance floor, getting his groove on with some lucky, little thing, but the minute some random stranger approached her, Derek was back at the table in an instant, with a fresh, fruity drink in hand, and a dangerous glint in his eyes. She had thought that he was just being protective, like he had grown accustomed to being after she had gotten shot. Though now, as Derek stared back at her, with a devouring gaze, she realized just how foolish she had been.

Cursing her stubborn, fierce independence for having her waste all these years, especially since she secretly loved being doted on. She swooned, biting her inner cheek to keep from uttering a desirous whimper, every time he affectionately kissed her forehead. Or how he would stay late at work – eyes drooping with exhaustion, and smiling at her with a warm, goofy grin – to keep her company, before he walked her to her car. But the way he would text her goodnight. Every. Single. Night. Making sure that she got home safe and sound, was the reason she had fallen in love with him.

Yes, Penelope was far from being a little submissive. Though that didn't negate the fact that she loved handing over the reins, and letting him take charge, with those magical fingers and that oh-so-deliciously-powerful tongue.

She moaned, thinking about the stiff fullness that was bound to happen, when he finally entered her. She had been wondering about that feeling for years. Had fantasized about them joining and rutting like sexy rabbits on a nightly basis. Had been dying to drive over to his house all week, admit that she had overacted, and then fuck him. Fuck him in the entrance way to his beautiful home. On that luxurious sofa in the living room, or that sturdy oak dining table. Then again, on the staircase and finally, if they made it past the hallway, on that sumptuous four-poster bed.

That bed deserved to have people rolling around in the throes of sex on it. It was a huge, dark mahogany canopy frame, surrounding a California king sized bed, with navy blue, high thread count, Egyptian cotton sheets, and a matching white, fluffy comforter. Oh, that bed was definitely made to be fucked on. And Penelope hated any woman, who had had the fortune of experiencing Derek in all his glory on it.

A small frown pulled at her lips, when she thought of all the times she had perched herself on his bed. Mostly on Saturday mornings, playing some RPG game on her laptop, happily chatting away, as she secretly watched Derek fold his clothes. He had been unable to shake off his law enforcement training, and now had a strict regime over certain things. Like the way he perfectly rolled up his socks and hung up his favorite denim jeans.

She would often zone out, becoming fascinated with the way his long fingers had moved with such precision and ease, it made her want to snuggle up against him. And on top of him. And underneath him.

Feeling his hands press roughly into her soft skin, and seeing the way that he was balancing on the precipice of control, which was barely holding him back from ravishing her, instantly squashed any festering bouts of jealousy – reminding her that Derek wanted her.

And oh, did Penelope want this. She wanted Derek to fuck her with all the pent-up frustrations from missed chances that had underlined years of their friendship.

Shivering, feeling her nipples tighten underneath the intense gaze of her best friend turned lover.

"I didn't get to touch you," he growled; eyes dark and swirling with heat – bringing her mind back to the present. "While you were prancing around stage naked."

"I wasn't naked-naked!" she shot back, measly attempting to shake off his sturdy grip, only to lick the plump cupid's bow of her lip, as her face bloomed scarlet. His doubtful look, told her that she had never been a good liar, and she mumbled. "Okay, well…I might have been just a little, teensy bit…naked-ish."

He arched a brow.

And she gulped.

Then his hands came up to caress her bare breasts, only to let his thumbs sneak through those opulent pearls, and pointedly drag over her tightly furled nipples. Her eyes drifted closed, and she bit her bottom lip, as he began to tenderly circle the pink, puckered flesh.

"Unhook your garter belt," he growled, letting his lips quirk into a knowing grin when her eyes lit up with excitement.

Nodding her head eagerly, she dropped her weakening grasp on his toned tummy, and fumbled with the snaps on her stockings. Releasing the last strap on the back of her thigh, she yipped in surprise at the force Derek used to yank her pretty panties down to her knees.

The cool air kissed over her exposed skin and her hips unconsciously rolled forward.

His nostrils flared, eyes darkening even more, as he took in the glistening, swollen folds between her legs.

"Oh, Garcia," he hummed in approval. "Lay back for me, baby," leaning forward, he took a deep, heady whiff, and licked his lips.

 _Frick! He wasn't gonna do what she thought he was gonna do, was he? Right here. In the open. On top of a piano!?_

Her bright smile faltered, and she tried to clamp her legs shut, but he stopped her.

"Oh, no you don't!" placing one hand on her soft, rounded belly, he forced her down until she was flat on her back. And before she could grasp what was happening, he lifted her knees and spread them wide, ignoring the restriction of lace, and leaving her exquisitely vulnerable.

"Der-Hot Stuff…wait…you don't have to-…" she frantically squirmed against him, only to gasp when his tongue delved into her opening, and then languidly traced a path up to her bundle of nerves. "Do th-that! Oh, fuck!"

Her head slammed back, as her hips bucked up into his face. Nails scratching desperately at the sleek wood of the piano, which was cool against her overheated skin, while her other hand gripped the back of his head and held him in place.

"Oh…O-Oh," she whined, as fiery, electric pinwheels shot down her spine.

His teeth gently closed around her swollen, pulsing clit. Slowly, teasingly sliding over it, only to suction his full lips around the sensitive nub and greedily suckle. The stubble of his goatee scratched at her creamy thighs and plump inner flesh, creating a titillating contrast that pulled a sharp scream from her lips.

"Morgan," she panted. "P-Please!"

Every nerve ending was tingling; winding her body up like a tight coil. She had been ready to go after having discovered how much she had affected Derek during her performance. It had put her well past the point of needing foreplay, as she was already hot, sopping wet and achingly empty.

"Hmm?" he purred happily between her legs; the vibration sending a shock wave to her core.

"No more…teasing," swallowing hard, trying to quench her parched tongue.

He released her clit, and blew hot air directly onto it, making her arch her back and wiggle away. He chuckled, and did it again, holding her hips in place. Wiping her matted bangs out of her face, she raised herself up onto her elbows to look down on him, and frowned.

Lifting his gaze from the pretty pink flesh, that stood out strikingly against her smooth, alabaster skin, he smirked.

"You taste delicious," his voice was gruff, and shamelessly filthy.

She blushed, and then gave him a cute, little pout. "That's super-duper great and all, but this Oracle needs to get this show on the road," thrusting her hips in small, jerky movements – hoping he got the point.

He stared at her, and stared some more, until a dark, lecherous grin spread across his face.

"I'm not done," he stated, and then spread her legs just a little wider, making the elastic of her panties dig into her soft flesh, as he pushed her knees into the piano top.

She hissed, realizing the only way to breathe, was to drop back down, and the minute he plunged his tongue fully inside of her, intricately swirling, licking, lapping at her slick heat, she did just that. Crumbling into a heap of pleasurable moans and whimpering cries, as her head lolled back-and-forth.

"Oh, fuck yes…right there!" her body felt like a furnace, and each tongue lashing was fanning the flames of her desire and clenching her inner muscles.

Smiling at her vocal reactions, he slid his hands down her stocking covered thighs, only to drag his blunt nails into the bare skin of her perfect ass. Squeezing, parting her cheeks, letting the sticky, tangy essence of her arousal drip into the crevice, and right over her puckered entrance.

He pressed, and then glided his thumb over the tempting spot, making her whine and drop her legs so that when they fell around his shoulders, her panties wrapped around the back of his neck, entrapping him.

His other hand began to lazily stroke the smooth, freshly waxed mound above the dripping heat between her thighs, causing her breath to hitch when he lowered his thumb to tap her clit. She trembled, carefully digging the sides of her stilettos into his back – seeking purchase to grind her hips upwards – only for him to press the calloused pad roughly against it, and quickly contrived a frenzied rhythm.

"Fuckity-fuck!" she blurted out, one hand shooting up to squeeze her own breast – pinching, tugging at her nipple – as her other hand grabbed his head and pushed him closer.

He got the message, and lowered his mouth to tease her entrance. Spearing his tongue inside, he curled it slowly, perfectly, but when he flicked it quickly side-to-side, her hips undulated and her body began to quake.

Babbling nonsense, mixed with naughty words of encouragement, as she was getting ready to hit that glorious climax. She just needed a little more…

 _Yes! Right there!_

 _Oh…oh, shit!_

The first fluttering wave hit, but before she could fly over that precipice, the friction disappeared and her body stuttered, as he abruptly stopped.

"Derek!" she barked – catching her breath, eyes blazing with fury – as she bolted upright. "What the… _fuuuck_!?"

Swiftly untangling himself from her legs, he took several giant steps back.

"How long will it take you to gather your things?" using his finger, he wiped off the obscenely wet trail across his chin.

She blinked; mouth opening and closing like a guppy fish.

"Sweetness, I need you to focus," he purred, slowly buttoning up his shirt and tucking it back inside his trousers. "Did you drive your car here?"

"But I-I wasn't done!" she wailed, using his own words against him, and then scowled. "And the only engine you should be worrying about revving is mine," she snorted inelegantly. "I know you to be quite the gentleman, Angelfish…but I kinda feel like you parked this Lamborghini out on the street, with an empty tank of gas, while it's raining outside and-" he cleared his throat and she huffed. "Um…I took the train."

"Good," tapping her cute, button nose. "How long?"

Her manicured brows knitted with indignation. "You are fully aware of the fact that I can completely destroy your credit score with a few keystrokes, right?"

He pulled up his zipper and slipped the button into place.

"I am this close…" holding her index finger and thumb closely together, she then dramatically squinted her eyes through the little sliver of space. "To wiping your firm, mochalicious ass off the grid. For eternity."

Chuckling; eyes dancing with merriment, he looped his belt through the buckle and loosely secured it.

A challenging glint flashed in her now nearly chocolate tinted eyes. Pulling her feet up to rest on the edge of the piano, she spread her legs, and dropped her hand to her throbbing sex.

"Garcia," came his low, warning growl.

"Morgan," she mewled softly, while charmingly batting her thick lashes and pouting out her bottom lip, attempting to do her best puppy-dog impersonation.

He grunted, and tapped his wrist – indicating she was wasting valuable time.

She gasped, frowned, and then raised her nose in the air in defiance, as her middle finger slid between her slick, swollen folds and vigorously began circling her clit. Desperately trying to find that release that he had stolen from her.

Her eyes drifted closed and a small smile appeared on her face, but before she could quench that painful ache, he stepped forward and snatched her hand away.

"Look, hard-head," tightly grasping her hand against his chest, as his hot breath cascaded over her shivering form. "There is nothing I'd rather do more, than to bend your little ass over this piano, and fuck you until you're begging me to stop," he gritted out, eyes narrowed with pure, animalistic fervor. "But I've waited years to do this. And the first time I sink my dick deep inside of you-…"

 _Yes! God, yes…that's exactly what she wanted!_

Licking her lips in anticipation, though her brows furrowed in confusion. "Derek," she pleaded, scooching closer to him.

Raising his free hand, he tenderly tilted her chin to look up at him. "I want it to be you, Penelope," his voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't want to fuck you while you're Miss Jubilee," holding her in place when she tried to look away. "I want it to be all you. No crazy, sexy outfit. No gimmicks. Just my sweet, silly, Baby Girl," releasing her wrist to drag his hand over those revealing pearls.

"Oh," feeling her heart thud in her chest, as unshed tears blurred her vision.

"I dreamed about being with you for so damn long," lowering his head to pepper her face with delicate, little kisses. "When I fuck you. And I most definitely will be…so you better get ready, Miss Hot Stuff," giving her a quick peck on the lips. "But when I do, it's gonna be under my house. In my own bed," unable to resist, he traced her bottom lip, only to suck it between his teeth.

His lips were velvety smooth and intoxicating. She was about to wrap her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, but he was much faster.

"Now, how long do you need to pull your panties back up and get your things, so we can go home?" suggestively waggling those dark, expressive brows.

 _Home? Did he just say home? Like home, meaning their home? Oh, he was giving her that look, that totally said 'yes, girl I said home'._

 _Oh, my god!_

Giddy excitement coursed through her veins, as a beaming grin revealed her perfect, pearly white teeth.

"Ten minutes," nodding her head absently, she shimmied into her panties – ignoring the slick heat that had pooled between her thighs – and let him help her off the piano.

Her legs felt like a wild combination of cemented jelly. Needing to find some semblance of balance, she reached her hands out to clutch his shirt, and took a heady whiff of that woodsy cinnamon concoction that could only belong to Derek.

She lifted her gaze, staring into the warm amber eyes of her best friend, and smiled. "Promise?"

Derek whirled her around, and quickly plastered her back against his front. Firmly holding her waist, as she teetered precariously on her heels, he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, and whispered. "You have spent years promising me a good morning, afternoon, and night," he softly cooed, only to rock his hips against the rounded flesh of her ass. "I promise that I'm not going to let you break those promises to us."

Penelope was getting ready to slump into his comforting arms, only to be pushed forward, as he gave her a swift, firm slap on the ass.

"You got like eight minutes left."

Penelope giggled, as she grabbed her cellphone and pretty flowers off the piano, and quickly made her way backstage. Sliding into the dressing room, she quickly unhooked the swishing pearl top, kicked off her stilettos, and then hopped around from foot-to-foot, as she rolled off her stockings and garter belt. Deciding that it was best if she took the panties home and cleaned them herself.

She then went potty, only to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

 _Yikes!_

Cringing, she headed towards her vanity, pulled out a wet wipe from her purse and scrubbed off the red smeared lipstick only to artfully reapply some lip gloss. She then took a moment to spruce up her hair, but hit one too many tangles and gave up on looking presentable. Shrugging her shoulder, she threw on her long-sleeved, emerald green wrap dress, leopard print, lace-up ankle boots, and a grey, faux fur vest.

Doing one final check in the mirror, she sucked in her belly and scrutinized her ass, only to laugh at how ridiculous she was being. After what Derek had just done to her, and was planning on doing when they got… _home_ , she needn't worry.

Twelve minutes later, she was walking out the door and into the crisp night air towards Derek's large SUV. Spotting Mallory and the tech crew hanging out by the box office, she waved goodbye.

They erupted with whistles of approval and teasing remarks about how the new lovebirds obviously christened their nightclub, as they all made their way inside to set up for tomorrows show.

"Make sure you name your first kid after me!" Mallory hollered from across the parking lot.

Penelope was beet red with embarrassment and had tucked herself safely into Derek's side, who was walking proudly next to her. He gave her temple a gentle kiss, as he opened the passenger door.

"Hmm, _Mallory Morgan_ …" slowing rolling the name off her tongue. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" she teased, wrinkling her nose as she squinted up at him.

A warm smile crossed his face, and his eyes lit up. "So does, Penelope Morgan."

Giggling to herself. "Aww, imagine! Her initials would be M&M! And she would be like a little, squishy, but strong, sparklin' wearin', caramel mini version of -… _whoa_! Wait! What?" she froze, and to her absolute horror, she then squeaked, as her arms started to flail around her.

He chuckled, placing a finger over her lips before she could fill her lungs with air. "Hush. When we're ready, we'll talk about it."

"When we're ready…" repeating the words, as if it was the first time she had ever heard them.

He nodded, rubbing a soothing pattern on her lower back.

"We'll talk about it," unable to hide her wide grin of total elation.

Derek started putting all of her belongings in the back, and was getting ready to help her up into the passenger seat, when a thought struck her.

"Wait a minute!" she shrieked, nearly tripping over a chunk of loose gravel as she spun around. "Does that mean…that you and I…" pointing at him, and then at herself. "That we are…I mean are we…"

"Dating?" arching an amused brow.

"Which means…"

"We're Boyfriend," wrapping her into a tight embrace. "And girlfriend."

"O-Oh!" she panted, out of breath.

She felt all warm and fuzzy on the inside, as those nervous butterflies danced around her tummy. It was as if her world had tilted on its axis and suddenly everything seemed clearer. And it was perfect. She was just about to give him a simple, adoring kiss on the cheek, when something caught her attention.

"Do you hear that?" not waiting for an answer, she wiggled her way out of Derek's grasp, and made her way around the vehicle.

The obnoxious, sniveling cries sounded like a wounded animal, though there was something very familiar about it, that had her heart plummeting to her feet.

 _It couldn't be…could it?_

Looking to her left, she gasped.

Sitting on a rusty, metal folding chair, with his elbows resting on his knees, hot pink boa wrapped around his neck and shoulders, which were shaking with each miserable sob, and a nearly empty bottle of cheap liquor dangling in his hand, was none other than…

Kevin Lynch.

To be continued…


	13. XIII

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! And special shout out, to my lovely Guest Reviewers, I see you and appreciate you!  
**

 **Also, I have already finished the final chapter to this story, it's a rather _looong_ , and quite naughty epilogue, that I'm sure you are all looking forward to reading. Well, at least, I hope y'all are! I was thinking of posting it over the weekend, but in honor of your endless patience, I can post before that. Let me know which you prefer :)**

 **Lastly, I will be resuming my normal round of updates to all my other stories.**

 **Story Warnings: Strong Sexual Situations and Coarse Language  
**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Chapter: XIII

 _If he called her Plum Sauce one more fuckin' time…_

Derek grumbled to himself, as he stood protectively next to his girlfriend, while his dark gaze followed Lynch's clumsy movements.

"I can't believe you showed up tonight!" Penelope hissed, stomping her pretty boot on the ground.

"I _jussst_ …I miss'ed you _doe_ ," Kevin slurred, only to blow his nose into the sleeve of his hideous brown shirt.

Derek winced, because the noises the other man was making through his broken nose sounded rather painful, though he still didn't feel guilty for having caused the injury.

"I know I hurt you, Kevin," Penelope sighed, tepidly stepping forward. "But we broke up. And we're not getting back together."

"Yeah, I _doe_!" came his nasally shout, as he bolted from the chair, and then wobbled to his feet. "You were too busy…" pointing an accusing finger at Derek. "Eating up your chocolate puddin' pop!"

Derek snorted, and rolled his eyes, only to arch a brow when Penelope sucked in so much air that he thought she was going to turn red and burst like a balloon.

Sputtering, she shoved her hands on those lovely, hourglass hips. "Were you spying on me!?"

"Yes!" haughtily raising his nose in the air, only to furrow his brows and shake his head. " _Doe_! I meant _doe_. I just…acci- acci-dental…"

"Accidentally," Derek offered, crossing his arms sternly in front of him.

"Yes!" Kevin nodded earnestly. "I had a ticket for the show that I bought before you," waving his hands at Penelope, and sloshing liquor all over himself, only to glare through his swollen black eyes at Derek. "Ran off with _him_!"

Derek would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation, but he knew how compassionate his girl was, and that she truly felt sorry for hurting her ex. So, he bit his inner cheek, and wisely remained quiet.

"And then," Kevin wagged his index finger in the air. "I get here…and watch you practically strip on stage like some little-!"

"I highly suggest you choose your next words wisely, _Lynch_!" she never used his last name to address him, and this time she spat it out like some disgusting disease.

His mouth flapped open like a fish, and he timidly began to play with the feathers on the fluffy boa, that were now crookedly hanging off his shoulders. "P-performer," he lamely mumbled out, bobbing his Adam's apple, as he heavily swallowed.

Derek's lips quirked at seeing the fear in Lynch's eyes, though he also couldn't deny the feelings that had exploded inside himself when he first saw Penelope on stage in all her glory. Yes, he had been immensely turned on, but there were still remnants of jealousy that had kept his dick stiff with arousal all night.

Shifting his weight on his feet, Derek discreetly adjusted his pants, and attempted to get Penelope back on track. "Baby, c'mon we should-…"

"It's a cabaret show, you nincompoop, what did you expect?" harshly blowing a lock of hair out of her face, only to quickly hold her hand up to stop her ex from talking. "No, you know what? Obviously, you didn't listen to a thing I said these last few weeks about why I was doing this show. And you, _not_ _listening_ , is exactly why we're not together!"

Kevin tried to roll his eyes, though it only made him look rather constipated.

"See! That right there," she shrieked, jangling her bracelets loudly, as she pertly pointed at him. "You never cared about my feelings!"

"What 'bout my feelin's?" he shot back. "You never listened to me when I told you how uncomfy...uncomfor-..." groaning in frustration. "That I didn't like you hangin' out with your _Hot Stuuuff_ , all the damn time!"

Derek frowned, and stepped forward; resting the back of his hand against Penelope's lower back when she gasped and clutched her hands into tight, little fists.

"That's totally different!" she huffed, only for Kevin to laugh in her face.

"Oh, bullshit!" he snorted, gesturing towards them, only for the liquor bottle to slip from his hands and shatter at his feet. "You fucked him while we were dating, Plum Sauce!" stumbling, eyes misting over. "I was right…all along…" his voice dropped, as did his shoulders.

"Oh…I-I didn't…that's not…" tears glistened in her eyes, and she bowed her head in defeat – unable to deny the truth. "I'm, so sorry," she sobbed.

Derek wrapped a strong, comforting arm around Penelope's waist and tucked her safely against him. "Shh, shh…it's okay," he cooed, peppering her cheek and forehead with sweet, little kisses.

"Seriously!" Kevin whined, puffing up his chest. "You're gonna do that in front of me. Here, right now!?"

Derek glared over Penelope's head. "Yes. She's _my_ girlfriend and she's upset," he growled. "And I am not going to let her slip through my fingers."

"It's okay," she sniffled, using the wrinkled fabric of Derek's shirt to gently dab her eyes.

"No, it's not," releasing her just enough so that she could look up at him. "This was a special night for you. And he made you cry."

"Calm down, my brave, Papa Bear," she smiled, patting his chest delicately – soothing away his worries.

He easily got lost in the warm, swirling depths of her beautiful hazel eyes, and he just couldn't resist lowering his head to capture her lips in a sweet, simpering kiss that had her leaning into him and moaning, quite loudly.

"Oh, c'mon!" Kevin groaned in disgust. "Really?"

Dazed, Penelope pulled away, panting for breath. "I love you," she whispered, giving him a firm squeeze, as she hugged him closely. "Now, take me home."

"After you, Sweetness," leading her around Kevin and back towards his SUV.

"Hey! Wait…where are you going?" Kevin wailed, trailing after them only to trip over a cement curb and tumble to the ground in pain. "Oh, shit, shit!"

Derek closed his eyes, and silently counted to ten, when Penelope shimmied her lush self out of his firm grasp and whirled around to check on her ex.

"Oh, my god!" she shrieked, quickly teetering her way towards him. "Kev, are you alright? Lemme see!"

"Oww!" he cried, carefully holding his wrist.

Kneeling next to him, she tried to ease his hand away, only to click her tongue in disapproval. "Please."

Kevin pouted, sniffling obnoxiously, and then finally held his arm out for her inspection.

"It's not broken," she sighed with relief. "But you definitely sprained it. Its gonna need ice."

"It hurts," using his other hand to pick at the gravel that had scratched its way into his skin.

"Stop that," Penelope spoke like a mother scolding an errant child, as she batted his hands away.

"I just wanna go home," he tried to roll onto his feet, but she pushed him back down.

"You weren't planning on driving home, were you?" glaring down at him, over her cute, little nose.

All three of them were fully aware of the fact that she absolutely despised drunk driving.

" _Doe_!" he adamantly shook his head, obviously still set on winning her over. "I took the train."

"Well that's good. I'm glad," nibbling on her bottom lip, and looking out towards the nearly empty parking lot. "But you missed the last one."

"He can get a cab," Derek suggested, and rather too sharply, because Penelope whipped her head around in shock.

Gazing up at him through those thick lashes, and knitting those manicured brows with concern, he had to admit defeat.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But he better not puke."

Thirty minutes later, Derek was speeding down I-95, while Penelope coddled Kevin in the backseat. Daring a peek in the rearview mirror, he nearly rolled his eyes, when she held up some French fries for him. It had been her bright idea to stop at a fast food restaurant to help sober him up.

Kevin lolled his head across the headrest, and goofily smiled at her. "Your hair looks like sunshine!"

" _Oh-kay_ , you need to eat some more," gently reminding him, as she pressed a fry against his chapped lips.

"It's _sooo_ pretty," he slurred, while twirling a golden lock between his fingers. "You're so pretty!"

Derek gripped the steering wheel, fighting the urge to slam on the breaks and smash Lynch's stupid face into the back of his seat. Penelope would not approve of that. So, he returned his attention back on the dark road ahead of him, and fiddled with the radio instead.

Slowly opening his mouth, he nibbled on the salty treat. "Thanks, Plum Sauce."

"How's the wrist?" taking a hearty sip of her chocolate shake, as she checked the makeshift boa sling, which she had creatively conceived while in the drive-thru at the burger joint.

"Better," dropping his head to rest on her shoulder, he wiggled around for a bit to get comfortable, and purred. "You're so soft."

Derek mumbled something under his breath, and caught Penelope's concerned gaze in the little mirror. Her warm, reassuring smile, calmed his tattered nerves, and eased the tension from his jaw. Relaxing in the driver's seat, he watched as she patted Kevin's head, and then ate a handful of fries.

An unusual silence fell over them. Kevin snoring loudly, as he drifted in and out of sleep, while Penelope stared wistfully out the window, only to make cute, teasing faces when she would catch Derek looking back at her.

"Five more blocks, make a left. It's the complex on the corner," quietly giving him instructions.

A few minutes later they were parked outside Kevin's apartment building, and Penelope was trying to wake him up.

"Hey, Kev," shaking him gently. "Wakie-wakie."

All she got was a gurgled snort in return.

Derek decided to take matters into his own hands, and pressed on the horn. The blaring noise jostled the other man, who bolted upwards and smacked his head on the grab handle above him.

"Fuck!" Kevin hollered, furiously rubbing his sore scalp.

Derek shrugged his shoulders, and fought his lips from quirking into a grin. "Okay, we're here!" excitedly rubbing his hands together, as he got out of the car.

Opening the back door quickly, had Kevin fumbling out of the SUV, only to get tangled up in the seat belt.

"Morgan!" Penelope screeched, as she frantically tried to release the buckle. "Help him up!"

Easily lifting the drunk back up into his seat, Derek leaned over, unsnapped the seat belt, and then firmly pulled him out of the vehicle.

Kevin stumbled, and then slumped against the cool, black metal of the SUV.

"I'ma throw up," he groaned.

Bracing his good elbow on his knee, he dropped forward, and did just that.

"Damn it!" Derek jumped back, though he was too late, as the pungent, chunky vomit got all over his shoes. "Fuckin' hell…" he murmured, breathing through his mouth; trying not to gag.

"Dude," Kevin wheezed. "I'm sorry," waving a hand at the mess. "'Bout that."

Pursing his lips, Derek gave a curt nod, before deciding to just cut his losses and kick off his shoes. He then carefully put them into the empty fast food bag and handed it over to Kevin.

"Hey, um…can you toss that in the trash for me?" wincing, as the gravel from the street bit into the thin layer of his black dress socks.

Penelope scrambled out of the SUV. "Whoa! Okay, don't breathe Garcie," humming to herself, as she clamped a hand over her mouth.

" _Heeey_!" Kevin blinked a few times, and glanced around. "I know this street…that's my house!"

"Oh, observant one," she giggled, only to clear her throat at Derek's stern look. "How 'bout we get you inside."

Adamantly shaking his head, as he hugged his injured arm tightly against himself. "I don't wanna!"

"You'll feel better," stepping closer, as she kindly squeezed his shoulder.

"I miss you, Plummy!" he blurted out, sliding a hand down his face to mask a sob. "I'm just so lonely. And it's all your fault…"

"O-Oh, Kevin…I…" the words died on her lips, and she nervously wrung out her hands in front of her.

Derek gently, but firmly grabbed her elbow and tugged her away. "C'mon, you don't have to listen to this."

"You didn't even give me a chance…" Kevin wept.

"Kev…" she tried, using the back of her hand to wipe the tears that slipped down her cheeks.

"Why?" finding his voice, as he caught a second wind. "Why didn't you give _us_ a chance?"

"I-I did!" nodding her head, as she pulled away from Derek.

" _Doe_ , you didn't! You didn't tell me what I did wrong, so I could fix it," he shot back. "You just left me and ran off with him!" holding a hand against the SUV, as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. "Did…did you ever even…" looking away, jaw clenched with resentment. "Did you even love me, Penny?"

A long beat passed, before she swallowed, and then nodded. "Of course I did."

He snorted, lifting his now stained shirt to wipe his face. "I didn't think so."

"Kevin, I-I did…I…" her hands trembled in front of her, and she clutched her vest for comfort.

He held up his hand, and frowned. "Just stop lying to me. I get it now. I was just your…" shrugging his shoulder with cold indifference, as he glared at Derek. "Placeholder for something much better."

Penelope released a sob, and Derek wrapped his strong arm around her waist to keep her upright.

"That's enough," Derek growled; challenging gaze narrowed on Lynch. "You knew exactly what kind of relationship we had when you first showed up. So don't you dare blame her, because you couldn't pull your own head out of your ass and realize it."

Kevin laughed, a hearty, mirthless laugh that echoed in the dark, empty street. "The only two morons who didn't _doe_ they were dating…" gesturing wildly. "Were you two idiots!"

Derek released a tense, shaky breath. There was no denying the blatant truth, for they had knowingly avoided their feelings for each other for years. And Kevin was now bearing the brunt of their newfound relationship – something that Derek was all too familiar with.

"Look man, I'm…" swallowing hard, stumbling over the words that needed to be said.

Shaking his head and failing to discreetly wipe snot from his nose, Kevin glanced back-and-forth between the two. "I um…" sniffling, as he looked down at his feet. "I always knew you two had that special _thing_. Hell, everyone did. Everyone, except for you two," he remained quiet, until he had collected himself enough to stare at Penelope. "Are you happy?"

Derek trailed his narrowed gaze away from Kevin, and watched Penelope. Watched, as heat bloomed across her cheeks, and a shy grin covered her face. Watched, as she took a steadying breath, and looked back at him with those beautiful doe-eyes; locking perfect hazels with his simmering ambers, and nodded.

"I am," she smiled. "Very happy."

Kevin exhaled a breath, that seemed to almost simultaneously deflate him and lift a weight off his shoulders. "Well, okay. I'm glad," giving her a small smile, only to stare at Derek and frown. "You better not hurt her. I know she's the best damn hacker there is, but I too have a few tricks up my sleeve, Morgan," jutting his chin out with pride.

Smiling, despite himself, Derek nodded. "Don't worry. I won't."

Kevin shifted uncomfortably. "Well…good. That's good."

Feeling Penelope nudge his side, and noticing her not-so-subtle encouraging look, Derek stood a little taller and grit his teeth. "Hey, um…Lynch," anxiously rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm uh, you know…" waving his hand around his own face, hoping the other man would get the message.

"What?" Kevin squinted.

Derek mumbled under his breath, and Penelope cleared her throat; gently elbowing his ribs.

"I'm sorry…that I um…hit you…" giving him a strained smile, "In the face," and a flimsy pat on the shoulder.

"No, you're not," pushing his glasses up over the bulky cast on his nose. "But I 'ppreciate the sentiment."

They all stood there, accepting the shift that had taken place, until Kevin slowly turned around and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Penelope shouted, twirling around on her heels, she teetered her way back towards the SUV. Throwing the back door open, she dug around her purse, tossing many things onto the seat, only to squeal. "Ah-ha!"

Walking back over, with a sparkly, purple lanyard dangling in her hands. She fussed with the many crazy trinkets on it, cursing under her breath, until she pulled the object free.

"You should have this back," holding up a small, golden key. "Since, you know…"

"Yeah," rustling the paper bag, as he awkwardly tucked it underneath his sling, he reluctantly took the symbol of their commitment back. Holding it in his hand, he rubbed his thumb over the cool metal, only to jam it into his pocket. "Thanks."

Penelope gave Kevin a little wave, as he turned around, and slowly trudged his way inside.

"Ready?" giving the crown of her head a soft kiss.

She smiled up at him, and graciously took his hand, as he led her towards the SUV.

Finally, they were back on the road, and Derek was taut with excitement, at the thought of getting to be alone with his girlfriend.

 _Girlfriend_.

Penelope was his girlfriend. He smiled, loving the way it sounded. Glancing over at his woman, he frowned, for she was glaring right back at him.

Swallowing heavily, going through a list of possibilities of what he had done wrong in the last five minutes, he was getting ready to speak, when she broke the silence for him.

"You didn't have to do that," her voice was low; clipped with a biting edge.

"What?" feigning innocence.

Crossing her arms, pleasantly pressing her full breasts together. "He looked like a sad, kicked puppy. In an even sadder, ugly brown, horrible paisley shirt. And you hurt him!"

"You dated him, not me!" Derek shot back unreasonably, unable to pinpoint where she was coming from, and why he was so riled up.

Shifting in his seat, when he suddenly felt that throbbing ache stir back to life.

Oh, that's right. It was probably because he foolishly decided against fucking Penelope at the club, because he had some silly, romantic notion to claim her in his own bed.

 _Great going, Morgan._

"Oh, don't go pinning this on me, my tall, dark and way more handsome version of Mr. Clean!" she huffed, blowing a blonde lock out of her face.

"I'm not the one who wanted to buy him a Happy Meal, and drop him off!"

"I wanted a milkshake!" defiantly raising her nose in the air, only to slump in her seat at his heated look.

Slowing to a stop, he took in account that he still had a ways to go until they reached his house, to salvage this night.

"You just…" she prattled on, squirming in her seat to fully look at him. "You told him to pull his head out of his tush!" shaking that red tipped finger angrily. "And you said that we already had a _relationship_!" throwing up dramatic air quotes, only to smack his shoulder. "If you always felt that way, then why the hell did you take so long to ask me out!?"

"Look, hard-head," chuckling, he gave her that dimpled grin, that she loved so much. "He's gonna get over it. And you and I, are official now," grabbing her hand, he caressed the back of her knuckles over the stubble of his cheek. "So stop worrying that pretty, little mind of yours. Because we are gonna take a hot shower, and-…"

"Shower?" she snorted. "You're a silly, stupid man if you think that big ol' Jacuzzi bathtub of yours is going to waste. I've been thinking about us in that porcelain beauty for years."

Derek jerked the gas pedal, making her seat belt lock, as she slammed forward.

 _Jesus!_

 _She was going to be the death of him._

She giggled, and then reached a hand over to interlace with his. "You're right. I'm sorry," lifting his arm towards her face, peppering the back of his hand with sweet kisses. "I'm just all kinds of emotional. And you're so frickin' handsome. And you smell good. So, damn good. Like a hot, sweaty manly man, with a hint of sugared spice," releasing a deep, throaty moan, she then knelt over the armrest to lick a wet trail down his exposed throat, only to nibble on his earlobe. "And I'm super-duper horny…" hot breath tickling his neck. "Because somebody didn't let me come."

Derek licked his lips, and stepped on the gas. Looking down at the GPS, noting that he just needed to make it seven more miles, and they would finally be home.

To be continued...


	14. Epilogue

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Thank you all for the wonderful support! And special shout out, to my lovely Guest Reviewers, I see you and appreciate you!  
**

 **This story was initially supposed to be something short and sweet, and my Muse had other ideas (like making this chapter the longest thing I've ever written). So, thank you all for the endless patience, and for going on this crazy journey with me!  
**

 **And though, I'm sad to see this end, I'm excited for what's to come. I will be resuming my normal round of updates to all my other stories. I hope to see you there :)  
**

 **Story Warnings: _Strong Sexual Situations and Coarse Language_  
**

 **Please, enjoy!**

 **Cabaret with Chardonnay**

Epilogue:

Derek slammed his finger onto the backspace button, completely deleting the sentence that he had valiantly been working on for the last twenty minutes. Taking a few deep breaths, he tried again.

 _The suspect's brother entered from the backdoor…_

Glaring at the little black words, he leisurely rolled the kink out of his neck, only for his bleary eyes to stare up at the large wall clock, which seemed to solely be sluggishly ticking away minutes.

The team had gotten back from their latest case about three hours ago, and they had all agreed to finish up their paperwork, so that they could spend the rest of the evening at Smitty's Bar and Grill down the street. It had been a relatively tame case, compared to some of the horrors they normally faced, but it had left them stranded for two exhausting weeks in a desolate, old western town in Dubois, Wyoming, with minimal leads and mounting victims.

Grimacing in pain, when he abruptly shifted in his seat to get more comfortable. Releasing a sharp hiss, as his fingers shot up to tenderly brush over the throbbing, deep purple bruise on his shoulder. He had stumbled while struggling with their UnSub and had smashed into a coffee table.

His heart twisted, remembering Penelope's shrill scream and nervous rambling over his headset, when he had shattered through the glass. The chaotic commotion had lasted a good couple of minutes and it had taken JJ, Rossi and himself several reassuring conversations to assure her that he was fine.

Clenching his teeth, he had hated the long days away from his girlfriend, especially after the few shorts weeks they had constantly spent together, as a couple, consummating their relationship with every sweet and naughty to downright kinky idea that had come to mind.

Oh, it had been the best weeks of his life, and all Derek wanted to do was swing by Garcia's office, take her home, and make up for the two excruciating weeks he had been away.

Lying in bed, in that quaint motel room on the other side of the country, he had vacantly stared at the tacky mural of galloping wild horses, as his mind wandered back to Virginia were Penelope was safely tucked away. The potent lust she had unleashed within him, hadn't been quenched, but fueled by her throaty, teasing voice over the phone. She had whispered enticingly filthy things into his ear, and made him come all over his grey sweatpants, like some antsy teenage boy.

He had been left panting for breath, still stiff and achingly hot, within his calloused palm, only for the little minx to giggle, and hang up.

Yes, Derek was ready to get home and get even, but the moment they had gotten off the elevator, Penelope had gathered them all into a hug – fussing like a mother hen, inspecting each of them over for any bumps and bruises – and when she caught his haggard posture and slowed pace, she had pursed her lips and then suggested that they all go out to recharge – not taking any no's for an answer – only to then whirl around on those deathly high, neon yellow platforms, as she quickly fled to her lair, without a second glance in his direction.

He was miffed, but enjoyed watching the luscious sway of her hips and perky ass, as she walked away. Leaving him mesmerized over her flowing dinosaur printed dress, that had dark green ferns and golden blotches of sunshine embellished all over it, and which gently swished over her bare thighs. It was obviously new, and totally adorable. And he couldn't wait to rip it off her.

Standing all alone in the cold, fluorescent hallway, he had to refocus his breathing and remind himself that he was at work. Though his sudden erection was making it rather difficult. Slowly making his way to his office, avoiding the curious, knowing gazes of his teammates, he locked his door and slumped into his chair. Where he sat, unable to concentrate on the case report.

Not yet ready to share their excitement, they had kept their new relationship under wraps. Cherishing the secrecy of it, while relishing in the fact that they could sneak around. It was exhilarating, and had led to some of the hottest sexual encounters that Derek had ever had.

There was the quickie in the supply closest, and the late-night escapade in the conference room. After everyone had gone home, he had eagerly bent Penelope over the wooden table and swiftly took her from behind, and before she could catch her breath, he pinned her up against the door, taking his sweet time thrusting deep inside her. Though, his favorite incident thus far, was when Penelope had snuck into his office, and surprised him with a special gift underneath his desk. It had been wet and sloppy, and the thrill of getting caught, had him exploding inside her mouth quicker then he would have liked.

Yes, they were taking full advantage of their private affair, however, the fact that no one on the team knew about them, was starting to fray on his nerves.

He had to be extra careful not to slip up and spill the beans, which was difficult when all he wanted to do was shout it from the rooftops that he was dating the sexiest and sweetest woman in the world. He wanted to put a ring on her pretty, little finger in front of all his friends and family and proclaim his devotion to her.

Okay, maybe he was getting a wee bit ahead of himself.

Although a rushed proposal was the least of his worries. The fact that he had fudged the truth about his injury, and by fudged, he meant that he hadn't told her at all, was what he should be concentrating on. Her heartbreaking cry on the phone had made him nauseous, and he didn't want her to worry. So, he had made the team keep his hurt shoulder a secret. It was just a bruise. No big deal.

However, the moment she laid eyes on him, and her face crumpled with anguish, he knew he had fucked up. Now, he was regretting his white lie and their secrecy, because he desperately needed some advice on how to apologize for an argument that hadn't even happened yet.

He felt weird going to Hotch for guidance, and though Reid was like his brother, he was… well, he was Reid. That left Prentiss, who wasn't big on 'girl talk', but she was logical. Then, there was Rossi, who would have some grand romantic gesture that would surely get him out of the doghouse. And JJ was her bestie. She could read Penelope almost as good as he could, and she would certainly help calm him down and set him straight.

The only problem was, none of them knew that they were dating, which left him on his own, to fend for himself.

 _Great._

Nervously tapping a tune with his Montblanc pen against a blank legal pad, he checked the clock once more, realizing only a measly seven minutes had passed. He decided to call it a night, and just get it over with. Shutting off his computer, leaving his desk in disarray, he quickly gathered his go-bag and the white fold-and-tuck box from the bottom drawer, and locked up.

His stomach fluttered, as he got closer to her lair. Warm, yellow light snuck through a small crack in the door, and he could hear the faint tapping of each precise keystroke. Taking a sturdy breath, adjusting the strap of his heavy bag, he carefully pushed the door open with his boot.

The sight of her leaning back in her chair, curvy legs propped up on the desk and crossed at her dainty ankles, nearly took his breath away. The keyboard was propped up on the armrests, and she twirled a bouncing blonde curl, as she punched a code in for a new search.

A black screen popped up, and bright green lettering and numbers scrolled rapidly with information that only she could decipher. She hummed in satisfaction, then placed the keyboard back on the desk, only to pick up her Miracle Worker mug, and take a languid sip of her tea.

"I hope you have something precious to offer this Oracle," her voice was husky, and unwavering. "Like a big, fat apology, wrapped in a gorgeous, shimmering bow," tilting her head to look back at him. "I also accept dark, raspberry filled chocolates, and a fine-tuned zeal of flattering compliments."

He smiled, dropped his bag by the door, and walked farther inside. "I missed you too," lowering his head, he gave her cheek a sweet, gentle peck, but before he could capture her lips, she turned away.

"Well, that's funny…" taking another sip, looking up at him over her tortoise shell glasses. "Because it appears that my boyfriend _missed_ the perfect opportunity to inform his lovely, finely dressed, perfectly postured, and slight worrywart of a girlfriend, that he injured himself," scrunching her cute button nose, when she glowered at him suspiciously.

"I'm sorry," grabbing the extra rolling chair, he turned it around, and gingerly plopped down into it.

She stared at him, scrutinizing each movement, and looked back at her computer screens. "What's in the box?" brightening her tone with an air of indifference.

His eyes crinkled in amusement, when he placed the small gift on her desk. But when she didn't show any interest in opening it up, he slowly slid it over with his index finger, until it was directly in front of her.

Her warm, hazel eyes glanced his way, and then down at the box, and then forward once more.

"I promise you'll like it," folding his arms over the back of the chair, and resting his chin on his bent elbow, he patiently waited.

Letting out a long, weary sigh, she placed her mug down on her turquoise doily, and then leisurely lowered her legs. Taking her time to straighten out her dress, before cautiously picking up the flimsy present. Popping the top open, she peered inside, only to look back at him with confusion written all over her face.

"I know I haven't cleaned my specs in a while," she retorted, blinking her eyes dramatically. "But I'm pretty sure your gift is lacking the… _wow factor,_ " shaking the empty box above her head.

"Turn it over."

Arching a manicured brow, she crossed a leg over her knee – letting the skirt of her dress bunch around her waist and expose her creamy thigh. A satisfied smirk covered her face, when his gaze widened and his tongue peeked out to lick his lips. Rolling her eyes, she turned the box upside down, and went completely still.

Delicately taped to the bottom of the box was an elegant bracelet.

There were three layers of vibrant red, nylon cord, that were connected at two opposing ends by sterling silver charms. One was an infinity symbol with both of their birthstones etched in the middle, and the other were two hearts entwined together. It was simple but stunning, and it took her breath away.

"It's known, as the Red String of Fate," eyes dark, and glistening with honesty. "It's a Japanese legend. It believes that the thread emanating from your heart-…and damn is your heart magnificent, Baby Girl," his adoring smile lit up the room. "Doesn't end at the tips of your pretty fingers, but it flows from your pinkie, to intertwine itself with the Red Strings of those around you."

She carefully removed the bracelet, and held it thoughtfully in the palm of her hand.

Rolling forward, he tucked her loose curls behind her ear, and trailed his knuckle soothingly down her cheek.

"It means…" his voice, a graveled rasp. "That two people are connected, and destined to be together. It's pure fate," his thumb reached out, and gently traced her quivering bottom lip. "And though the strings can stretch and tangle in life, their bond can never be broken. That no matter the place, time, or circumstance…I am yours, and you are mine. Always."

"D-Did Reid tell you this?" came her choked sobbed, as she quickly wiped away the tears that slipped down her puffy cheeks.

"Hey, your man, knows a thing or two," chuckling, blinking his own tears back that threatened to fall. "Plus, it matches mine," lifting his denim pant leg up, he revealed a similar bracelet around his ankle.

The only obvious difference was that his charms were tiny, bronzed ones that lacked any glittering stones. A manly twist, on such a romantic gesture.

"Oh, Hot Stuff," trying to clip the bracelet on her wrist, only for her shaking hands to fumble with the dainty clasp. "It's so beautiful! It's perfect!"

He reached forward, and easily secured the gift. Loving the striking contrast of red against her fair skin. Glancing up at her face, his heart seized, and then swelled.

"I love you, Derek," she whispered, with such earnest devotion, much like she had done the first night they had made love.

Her confession rang delightfully in his ears then, as it did now. And, without much protest, he allowed himself to relive that exquisite moment.

* * *

_ _Flashback: After Opening Night_ _

Lukewarm water sloshed around his waist, as she wiggled her lush, naked self over his lap. Her lips never left his hot, wet skin, as her tongue chased droplets of water down his body.

His dick laid stiff against his taut tummy, and she pushed him lower down the tub, so that she could glide her swollen, dripping center over his thick, rigid length. She did it slowly, teasingly, with enough pressure to make his head slam back against the cold edge of porcelain.

"Fuck, Baby," he croaked, gasping for air.

This was not what he had planned, when they had first stepped foot inside his quiet house. Clooney had excitedly yipped in greeting, and Penelope gave him plenty of happy kisses and a belly rub.

Derek watched for a few minutes, but the tension in his body had him telling her to go ahead and use his shower to wash up. She had given him a heated look full of promises, that made him weak in the knees, as she began to strip off her clothes in the middle of his living room.

Haphazardly tossing her faux fur vest onto the large espresso recliner, she then ripped off her emerald wrap dress and went to throw it at Derek's stunned face, only for it to fall short and land in a rumpled heap over Clooney.

Penelope gasped, covering her mouth to hide her amused giggles, as the poor pooch barked; tail eagerly wagging and frantically twirling around in a circle, trying to shake the soft fabric off. Derek helped the little guy out, and Clooney ran into the den down the hall, only to come back a moment later with his favorite slobbered chew toy.

Patting his head apologetically. "Sorry bud, not right now," giving his ear a gentle squeeze, he looked up and nearly swallowed his tongue.

Standing there with breasts completely bare, and only wearing those pretty lace panties and leopard ankle boots, he had to remind himself how to breathe. Especially when she bent over and her large mounds swayed, creating a tantalizing valley of cleavage, as she struggled to take off her boots. They were tightly laced, and when she loosened the shoelaces, she stumbled and kicked one off, only to yank off the other one and toss it behind her.

Derek cringed, when the heavy heeled boot hit a ceramic lamp and shattered across his hardwood floor, dousing them into complete darkness.

"Oopsie!" came her squeak of surprise.

He chuckled, for the graceful poise Miss Jubilee exuded on stage had managed to disappear during the car ride, and had been replaced with his Baby Girl's naturally klutzy mannerisms.

Hearing her bare feet pad across the newly polished wood, as she blindly searched for another light switch, he frowned.

"Baby, stop!" slightly reprimanding her. "I don't want you to cut your feet."

She skidded to a halt, and had obviously thrown her arms out when she froze, because her hands smashed into something else. By the clattering sound of it, it was from the dozen picture frames – which included the program from her recently finished cabaret show; a treasured gem he often reminisced about – that he kept proudly on the sparse bookshelf in the corner. On the other side of the room.

 _How the hell did she get over there so fast?_

"I can't see anything!" she shouted, overcompensating her voice for her lack of sight. "Where's Clooney? I don't wanna step on him!"

The dog having heard his name, yipped and made his way happily towards her. His nails tapping against the wooden floor and his panting breath the only noise in the dark house, until she released a startled scream.

Derek quickly pulled out his cellphone, and flashed it in Penelope's direction.

Tucked safely in the corner of the room, he spotted her playing with the plastic leaves from the Ficus tree his sister Sarah had gotten him, as a housewarming gift years ago. Looking down, he realized it was Clooney, who was enthusiastically licking her legs, which had caused her fright.

"It was wet, and slobbery…" she mumbled out, squinting her eyes at him, only to pat the pup's soft brown head. "Hmm, he's just like his Daddy."

He laughed, a full belly laugh, and then hit the switch near the kitchen entrance, flooding the house in soft warm light.

"Sorry I broke your lamp," slowly walking towards him, as she twirled a platinum lock.

"I'll buy another one," he started to unbutton his shirt, only to growl in frustration and then rip the thing off.

Her eyes went wide, and she chewed her bottom lip, only to squeal. "Last one in the shower is an old, smelly eggie!"

With surprising agility, she jogged up the stairs to his master suite – jiggling the fleshy cheeks of her perky, heart-shaped ass. And he dumbly stood there for a solid minute, trying to catch his own breath.

Her silvery giggles soon faded, and he quickly unbuckled his pants and slid of his boxers, before hastily running after her. She was already standing in the large, glass encased shower – one hand hidden between her creamy thighs, the other rolling a puckered nipple – with a bright grin covering her face.

Steam quickly filled the bathroom, easing the tension from his body, as he willingly joined her. Though he had barely stepped underneath the huge overhead shower, when she began to giggle.

"Oh, Sugar Shack, I think you're forgetting something," she smirked, eyes dancing with merriment.

Arching his brow, only to follow her shaking hand down to his feet, and frown. He had forgotten to take off his socks. Gritting his teeth, he tore off the soaked cotton, threw them over the shower door, and then pushed her lush body against the cool, tiled wall.

Hot, pelting water cascaded over them, as he greedily lapped at her wet skin. His heavy erection pressed into the soft swell of her belly, and she gave it a firm, grasping stroke before turning in his arms to wash her makeup off. He began to gently wash her hair, latching onto the smooth column of her neck – licking, tasting, enjoying the pleasing strawberry aroma that filled his senses.

Taking his time to lather every curve of her body with soap. Squeezing, suckling, nibbling on the soft flesh, until it was bright pink from the heat of the shower and his meticulous attention.

"Oh, fuck me!" she suddenly cried, as she wildly flailed inside the shower.

Derek hummed in agreement, too busy admiring the trails of water rolling over her breasts and dripping off her furled nipples, but the minute her hand shot up and roughly smacked his chin, she had his full attention.

Hissing sharply through her teeth, as one hand clamped over her eyes and the other frantically searched in front of her.

"What's 'matter?" he swallowed, clutching her hip to steady her on the slippery floor.

"My contacts!" she shrieked. "I forgot to take them out," the palm of her hand slapping his solid chest, as she fruitlessly sought comfort from her distress. "It burns!"

"Fuck," shutting off the water, he helped guide her towards the sink. "What do you need?"

"My purse," eyes cinched shut, she sniffled. "I have a travel kit for my lenses," hissing again; voice rising in pitch, she literally started to flap her arms in fear. "I need that bottle of saline!"

"Gotcha," giving her a quick peck on her forehead, he dashed back downstairs.

The cool air was a shocking difference from the warm, steam encased bathroom. Bouncing on his toes, he cupped his member, and looked around the room. Coming up empty, he was wondering if she had left it in the SUV, when muffled growls and slobbery gnawing sounds grabbed his attention.

 _Oh, no, no…no!_

"Clooney!" he scolded – making sure Penelope was nowhere in sight, before swiping up the large floral tote. "Bad, boy…bad!"

The pup whimpered, and quickly scampered away – peering over at his owner with those big brown eyes, as he hid behind the dining room table.

"Boy, you better hope your Mama doesn't see this," shaking his head, as he stuck his finger into the torn hole on the pretty teal fabric. "What am I supposed to tell her?"

Clooney barked, and tucked his tail between his legs, as he stared forlornly at the floor.

"Yeah, you're right, we'll worry 'bout it later."

"Morgan!" came Penelope's distressed scream.

Rushing back upstairs, he found her pacing in a small circle, with mascara running down her cheeks.

"Oh, Sweetness," he started, only for her to snatch the solution from his hand.

She went to hold her eye open, only to shake her head and pass the bottle back. "I can't…you do it!"

"Shh," he cooed, rubbing her hip. "We'll do it together, okay?"

She nodded, and fifteen minutes later, after many failed attempts and only one tearful breakdown, Penelope was now free of her stinging lenses and finally had her sight back.

"There she is," tapping the tip of her nose. "My beautiful, OG."

Face now bare of makeup, she stared up at him with slight puffy red eyes, and gave him a coy, little grin. "Ready to rock 'n' roll?" swiftly slapping him on his firm ass, before eagerly making her way towards the giant Jacuzzi tub across the room.

Fiddling with the knobs of the faucet, she ran her hand underneath the water, until she found the perfect temperature. A moment later, she was completely submerged under a sea of lavender and orange blossom scented bubbles. The aromatherapy gift was from hers truly, which she bought for herself one Christmas and had left at his house for future use, for whenever she stayed the night.

He used to sit on his bed watching a movie, only to get distracted by the alluring fragrances. And it drove him absolutely crazy, listening to her soft moans of satisfaction, imagining her all flushed – hair up in a messy bun, loose tendrils around her face and neck, as she sipped on her favorite Zinfandel – had required all his might to not run in there and slide in behind her for a relaxing soak, which in his mind, would actually make them filthier.

Now, he was finally able to join her. His dick was proudly jutted out from his body, and it twitched in response when she sat forward, making the tips of her large breasts come up above the water, as she gave him a come-hither motion.

And that is exactly how he came to find himself with Penelope squirming enthusiastically on top of him. His eyes fluttered opened, taking in the soft hues of light that made the cream and neutral mosaic tiled walls of his bathroom, appear warm and inviting.

Then she rolled her hips, arching her back and shoving those luscious tits of hers right into his face. Derek was a breast man; he just simply loved curves, and he had been envious of his best friend's cleavage for years.

They were full, perky, more than a handful, with smooth, creamy skin, with large, pretty pink nipples that matched her bare lips. He had dreamt about them daily, and had fantasized about them every time he thrust into his hand late at night. They were glorious. And they were now his to play with.

A lecherous smirk crossed his face, before hungrily wrapping his soft lips around the furled flesh, and sucking as much of her teat into his mouth, while his other hand palmed and squeezed the heavy weight of her other breast.

Penelope hissed, grasping the back of his head to hold him in place.

"O-Oh, God!" she cried, flinging her head back, as he sunk his teeth into her nipple – expertly flicking his tongue back-and-forth. "Derek," she begged. "Now, now…now!"

She dropped her hand into the sudsy water, firmly gripping his length, she lifted her hips and positioned himself at her entrance.

His glittering ambers went wide, as he tried to stop her. "Wait! Baby-Pen…hold on…" he grunted with urgency, but her skin was slippery from all the essential oils, making it difficult to grab her hips and slow her momentum.

She sank fully down onto him, sheathing her tight heat around his long, and very thick member, and a sharp, painful howl filled the room.

" _Fuuuck_!" she whimpered, as she quickly shot back up. Her hands clutched the tub behind Derek, as she hunkered forward, baring all her weight on her arms, and catching her ragged breath.

His hand trailed up and down her side in a soothing intricate pattern, as he cooed sweet, encouraging words in her ear. "Shh, Sweetness," peppering her chest with delicate kisses. "You're okay, Baby. Just relax."

"Damn, Hot Stuff. You certainly are…equipped," giving him a surprised look, though her face was still twisted in discomfort.

"My little, eager Mama," he smiled, lowering his hands to squeeze her ass. "See why I wanted to do it on my bed first?"

"W-Where's the f-fun in that?" she panted; eyes full of determination, as she wiped a wet stringy lock out of her face.

"Silly girl," bringing a hand forward to roll her nipple, as his other hand came back around front and delved between her legs – finding that swollen, pulsing nub and frantically circling it with the pad of his thumb. Her hips rolled forward and her eyes drifted closed. "That's it, beautiful. Lemme take care of you."

His middle finger went lower and tenderly teased her entrance. She jolted, and then eventually relaxed, as he patiently eased himself inside. Finding that bumpy patch of nerves, he rubbed over it, making her creamy thighs clamp tightly around his hairy legs.

Her back went rigid and her breathing increased, as he began to work her body back up to a fervent hunger. Sputtering nonsensical things, she tried to wiggle away from the intense pleasure.

Clicking his tongue, he inserted another finger; increasing the friction, and growled. "Let go, Penelope. It's okay…come for me, Baby Girl."

She shook her head, flicking water off her soaked tendrils, even as her body quaked, and then shook violently in his arms.

"O-Oh, my _Goood_!" came her high-pitched whine, as she rocked against him and finally lost control.

"You're so fuckin' perfect," nipping at her soft, beautifully flushed skin.

Relentlessly continuing the rough pressure over her clit, he positioned his throbbing member at her entrance, and slowly began sliding himself inside.

"Oh…fuck yes!" she husked, sharp nails raking down his broad, wet shoulders, when the mushroomed flared head of his cock pushed through the fluttering inner muscles of her sopping core. " _Morgan,_ " she moaned, lowering her forehead to rest on his, only to gently nip at his full bottom lip.

She started to take over, erotically undulating her hips above him. Slowly sliding him in-and-out, with long, grasping strokes, until he was buried deep within her, and his heavy balls brushed against the fleshy cheeks of her ass.

"Holy shit!" she stuttered, stilling her movements, as she enjoyed the complete fullness that stretched and throbbed within her.

"Damn, Garcia," he rasped, blunt nails of one hand digging into the flare of her hip, the other shooting up to cup and palm her breast, as she engulfed him inside her slick heat. "Fuck, you feel good, Baby Girl. So, wet and tight for me."

"Yes," came her breathless moan.

Their lips were barely touching, and the dizzying effects of breathing in the hot, swirling breath of each others air, sent them into a complete frenzy. She forced her tongue inside, and desperately caressed the velvety cavern of his mouth.

Their teeth harshly clicked, lips becoming bruised, but neither broke away for air. She latched her tongue around his much larger one, where they massaged together, dueling for dominance.

He growled, and thrust his hips upwards, making her gasp, and allowing him the opportunity to sneak his tongue into her mouth. He stroked, tasting every crevice, only to wrap his tongue around hers and suckle – mimicking the carnal action he wanted to do on her swollen clit.

She squealed, grinding her hips over his groin, in a perfect titillating motion, that had him plunging his tongue between her lips – imitating fucking her, as they began to roll their hips in tandem.

She slid him almost all the way out, only to slam back down. Soon finding a perfect rhythm that splashed water all around them in violent waves, adding to the sensual possession of their intimacy.

Swiveling her hips, rutting against him, she dragged her nail down the strong muscles of his pecs, and then teasingly flicked his flat nipple. He hissed, and then retaliated by tugging and rolling her hard nipple between his own fingers. Her eyes narrowed, giving him a challenging smirk, as breathy, feminine moans filled the space.

Though he was intent on making her scream his name. His hand snaked back down, and roughly circled the protruding nub between her thighs. She fumbled, knees slipping across wet porcelain, and dropping all her weight onto his rigid length.

A guttural, nearly animalistic scream flew past her kissed-bruised lips, as her eyes shot open, only for him to wrap his arm tightly around her lower back and hold her in place. She squirmed, making jerky little movements, that only incited him to thrust upwards.

Her body was now plastered indecently to his front, as they switched to a more tantalizing pace; a rocking motion, that was slow and searing. Her full heavy breasts slid across his chest, and it wasn't long until her legs began to shake.

He trailed his hand further down, and teased her puckered entrance. Eyes cinched shut, mouth open and soundless, she froze, and then shattered. Convulsing, inner muscles fluttering tightly around him, as rippling waves of pleasure shot through her.

Loosening his rough hold on her body, she arched her back, and he held onto her hips, as he desperately searched for his own release.

"Don't you…" she panted, through little shuddering breaths. "Ever fuckin'…stop!" suddenly vocal and demanding, tits bouncing enticingly in front of his face, as she rode him through her orgasm. "Fuck…Derek, it feels so fuckin' good!"

He grunted, the only coherent sound he could make out over the loud ringing in his ears.

"Harder," she pleaded, urging him to change angles. "Oh, fuck, right there!" she rasped, when he hit that bumpy patch of sensitive nerves deep within her. "Oh- _shiiit_!" she suddenly screeched.

Spastically jerking, she clawed her way off him. Derek stopped his movements, having felt pressure build around his cock, letting him slip out of her, only to feel a harsh gush of sticky arousal cover his waist.

"Did you just…" he choked out, eyes dark and dangerous. "Squirt?"

She couldn't even answer him, as she babbled complete nonsense, while leaning against the side of the tub – quaking uncontrollably with pleasure.

"I can't…stop coming," she mewled, dropping her head to rest on her arm.

Derek swallowed, clenching his body, as his own sticky essence leaked from the tip of his aching dick

"Holy shit," he smirked, waggling his brows suggestively.

"I need…" licking her lips; expression glazed over and searching.

Watching her body gasp for air, trailing his heated gaze down the curve of her spine and over the round swells of her ass, only to spot the creamy, slick desire dripping out of her slit and down her thighs.

Gritting his teeth, he surged forward, swiftly getting to his knees and without any warning, buried his rigid girth deep within her.

She grunted, something loud and unladylike, and pressed back against him.

"One more time, Garcia," growling into the crook of her neck, as he trailed sloppy open-mouthed kisses across her damp shoulders, before thrusting with slow precision.

"O-Oh, no…no…too much!" she squirmed, seeking purchase on the smooth granite that surrounded the indoor Jacuzzi, only to slip, making the palms of her hands smack the soaked tiled floor, splashing water into her face.

Derek grinned, for she was now dangling over the side of the tub, with no leverage and deliciously open for him. Holding her waist, he controlled her body, as he rolled her back onto his throbbing cock.

Her thighs spread farther apart, accepting even more of him with each thrust, as she dug her red painted toes into the slippery wall behind him. Though her legs were weak and still trembling with exhaustion, all she could do was grunt and pant for breath, as he fucked her from behind with that domineering precision.

"M-Morgan," she stuttered, voice now enticingly hoarse. "Please…I can't…" gasping, when her ribs dug into the cold porcelain.

"Yes, you can," he snarled, roughly grabbing a fistful of her partially dried hair, as he slammed into her.

She whimpered, mouth hanging open, releasing feminine cries, that twitched his dick and spurred him on. Looking up, her eyes spotted the large mirror over the sink, and caught his arrogant grin and narrowed obsidians staring right back at her.

Her inner muscles clamped down on his thick member, and he hissed in response.

Smiling, feeling the painful sensitivity slowly melt its way into fierce need, she reached a hand behind her and blindly hit the switches. Hot water blasted from the Jacuzzi jets, and the one right beneath her belly hit her swollen center.

She shrieked, and folded in on herself.

Derek chuckled. "Where do you think you're going?" pushing her back down, pressing her clit directly into the powerful pulsing stream.

" _Oh, my fuckin' God_!" she wailed, as her eyes rolled back.

He slowed his movement, barely rocking into her, as he held her place – forcing her to feel every sensation that wracked her body. A litany of expletives flew out of her mouth, as her inner muscles clamped around his heavy cock and she gushed once more.

She keened, mewling loudly, desperate for relief, as tears glistened in her eyes.

"Stay with me, Garcia," he commanded, reaching down to slap her ass, only to twist her dark, golden locks around his fist and yank her head all the way back. "Keep your eyes open."

He watched through the mirror, as she lazily blinked and licked her lips, only to look back at him with a heavy-lidded gaze.

"Please," she cried, grinding her hips against him, only for him to thrust fully into her. "I need…" she moaned, jolting from the pleasure.

"Your pussy feels so fuckin' good, Baby Girl," he cooed into her ear. "So swollen and hot. Your soaking wet for me, Garcia," gripping her hips, feeling his balls tighten, he began to pump into her with abandon. "You gonna come for, Daddy?"

The dark, naughty words, had a gush of heat dripping out of her, and her body quaking with fervor. "Fuck, yes!" came her rough growl, as her sharp nails scratched, trying to hold on. "Make me come, Baby," finding the last of her strength to rut against him.

He had challenged her, and Penelope, like she did in all aspects of their life, pushed right back. A few more deep thrusts, was all it took for her to shatter in his arms and tremble with another intense orgasm, as white-hot light flashed behind his own eyes. He hit that peak and tumbled headfirst over the edge. Roaring, head thrown back, fingers digging cruelly into her flesh, as he finally found his release.

"Hot Stuff," her sweet, throaty voice called out to him, but he was stiff with pleasure.

"Hmm?" he moaned.

"Morgan!" she shouted.

Startled, he opened his eyes and frowned.

_ _End of Flashback_ _

* * *

Penelope sat before him, frantically waving a fluffy orange and green, feathered pen in front of him.

"Are you okay?" resting the back of her hand against his forehead in concern, as she flashed a squishy pig flashlight into his eyes.

"Hmm?" he husked; squinting, as he swallowed his parched tongue, only to frown when he felt stiff, swollen flesh dig into his belt.

"You started moaning, and got all sweaty, and googly eyed," she rambled, peering over her frames to examine him closer. "And now you're smiling at me with that goofy grin you only get when you think about sex…and…" she gasped, and scooched back in her chair. "I was thanking you for this pretty, oh-so-thoughtful present," throwing her hand into the air, letting the charms flash under the warm fluorescent lights. "And you're daydreaming about…about…" sputtering, eyes darting around her lair, like his filthy thoughts would be caught on camera.

"The Jacuzzi," his voice was low and suggestive.

She froze, and an appealing blush bloomed across her cheeks. "Oh," looking away, as she fiddled with the empty gift box.

"I was thinking how I want a repeat performance," he growled, reaching out to grab her wrist, he licked the spongy flesh between her index finger and thumb.

Her eyes drifted closed, and then she squealed and wiggled her hand away. "We're at work!"

Arching an expressive brow, he snorted. "That hasn't stopped us before."

"Well, Reid almost caught us last time," she huffed, looking down her button nose. "Imagine my poor, lithe Boy Wonder trying to read one of his encyclopedias, only to catch us frolicking naked in the bullpen, with your gorgeous, bald head between my legs."

A shit-eating grin flashed across his face, as he nodded in excitement. "Damn Mama, I almost forgot 'bout that one," giving her a low whistle. "I need to put that flexibility of yours to work."

She threw a rainbow Hacky Sack at his head. "Focus."

He was just about to make a witty comeback, when both of their cellphones vibrated and chimed.

"Time to go to Smitty's," he frowned, getting up out of his chair, while giving her lush body a heated perusal.

She pouted. "Do we have to?" dramatically batting her eyes.

"Well it was your bright idea," sternly crossing his arms. "I had all these plans for that hot, little body of yours when we got home."

She whimpered, nearly dropping the empty box from her nimble fingers.

"You had plans?" she squeaked.

"Mmhmm," he shrugged with feign indifference.

"And I got stubborn, and all panicky, and did that hardheaded thing I do and…ruined them?" she breathed out, looking everywhere but at him.

"Yep."

"Ah, fiddlesticks!" she whined.

"Though if you hurry that sweet tush of yours up," glancing down at his watch. "We can leave the team early and still make good use of tonight."

Throwing the empty box in the trash, she shut off her computers, and quickly began tossing things inside her shiny gold triceratops purse.

"Oh, my Chocolate Knight," she cooed, shoving her arms into her burnt orange Peacoat. "The night is young, and I too have a little something special for you at home."

Canting his head, eyes lighting up in surprise.

"Mmhmm," she smiled, and then sidled up against him, tenderly kissing over his bruised shoulder, and whispered in his ear. "And all I'm gonna say is…leather and spikes."

His nostrils flared, and he stumbled forward, as she giggled and teetered her way swiftly around him and out the door.

 _Damn!_

Shaking his head, he watched the alluring sway of her hips and those bouncing platinum blonde curls, as she disappeared down the hallway.

 _Oh, was he a lucky, lucky man._

Tendrils of excitement snaked down his spine, coiling in his gut, and he nearly tripped over his boots trying to run after her. And there was no doubt that he would be chasing her, for the rest of their lives.

 **:-*-: Fin :-*-:**


End file.
